We crossed over a bridge and now we were on Riker’s Island. The entire island is the prison.
I was 25 this morning but now I am vulnerable and 14 and crying because I don’t have friends to hang out with, and I am so afraid of being unloved.
The beating lights, loud music and incessant cigarettes and alcohol, this has been the common scenario of partying. And the morning after, there goes the usual headache and hangover, the smudged make up and the strong smell of smoke on your hair.
If that love wasn’t enough to stand the test of time, what will be?