I don’t want your late nights, I want you middays when you’re over the workday and you just can’t wait to come home to someone.
Scorpio: When you’re drunk, you become self-destructive. Even though you know better, you’ll pick up your phone and text your ex about how much you miss them–or about what a complete and utter ass they are.
Stop telling me I’m drunk so you think you have an excuse to touch me. I don’t need you holding my hand while I get a glass of water. I don’t need you to help me sit back down. I don’t need you touching my shoulders to “help” me sit up straight. I especially don’t need you caressing my head while I dozed off.
They will hurt with you, and will grab your hand tightly, to let you know that they aren’t going anywhere. And they never, ever will.
I want to give into you again because as wrong as it is, it also feels so right, so I do. Even though I know you’re a bad decision before I make it.
Some of these college kids need help.
He loved me on the weekdays,
when he was clear-headed enough to comprehend
the effort of cultivating a semi-lasting relationship with someone else
because if he had the choice, he wouldn’t do it sober.
Said “eh whatever” and not worn a condom during sex even though you should have.
Wasted, smashed, tipsy, three-sheets-to-the-wind, gone. Whatever you want to call it there’s something to be said for the magical little moment when your BAC goes from zero to .08.
I think that I will get myself through this. I mean, I always do, don’t I? I’ll find it within myself to stop using alcohol as an outlet for my agony.