January 26th, 2012 | 1 Comment »

You hate him.
you never want to see him again
you hurt
you were crying a few hours ago
now you’re just miserable
why is it that when you’re miserable, everyone else seems so happy?
dammit
you definitely don’t want to be around people
you just want to be in a dark room
so you can seethe
about him
you rattle the ice in your glass
more vodka
that should help shouldn’t it?
you walk over to the bar
the waiter sees you coming
Stoli?
Rocks?
you just nod
it doesn’t even burn on the way down
the bartender has this look on his face
you don’t care
you want him to try to stop you
maybe number 7 will numb your insides
he pours it and cocks his head to the side
follow you?
sure
JesusBeAnAxeMurdererBecauseIWannaDie
the cool night air is a quick slap
suddenly the blunt is in your hand and you suck at it greedily
usually it makes you hazy and sleepy
not today
today it’s a welcome balm to your aching heart and a spark to your brain
sweet sweet strawberry kush
you feel his eyes on you
roving over your body
taking in the knee-high boots and the handkerchief skirt
he likes what he sees
they all do
his eyes meet yours and he turns away
you raise an eyebrow
well m’fker?
do something.
suddenly you’re pressed up against the way
frantic palming of your ass
his furtive tongue darting in and out of your mouth
you sigh inwardly
you hate gropers
you hate bad kissers
you hate this situation
you push him off
wipe your lips
and take a long leisurely last drag
as you walk off you hear his muttered curse
damn right you’re a bitch
bitches have power
bitches don’t cry
bitches don’t let stupid ex-boyfriends rip their hearts out of their chests
you hear a giggle
you know that sound
there are two figures in the far corner
its your roommate!
Finally!
stupid girl drags you to a party and then leaves you by yourself…
some best friend she is…
you squeal her name and rush over
maybe she can cheer you up
not that she didn’t already try to
for hours on end
but you needed to get that cry out
you have to figure out a way to make it up to her
what’s this?
who’s the hottie she’s with?
you look over her shoulder as she’s talking to you
you catch his slow mocking appraisal
he looks as damaged as you feel
he looks like a much better prospect than the desperate bartender
he looks fun
you toss your hair
fix your “come hither” smile on your face
you feel alive
he licks his lips nervously
good
you want him eating out of your palm
in your mind you want as much power over him as that rat-bastard had over you
tonight you’ll do the hurting
poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming…

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