t3chmonkey

Ears buzzing and ringing like a bad seventies horror soundtrack.
Hit a show downtown and bumped into my ex-girlfriend. THE ex-girlfriend. I thought we had silently agreed to divide the city between us, I'd take the north and she could have the whole fancy south to herself.

But there she was, smiling with her new boyfriend just tickled to see me.

"Hey. I'm supposed to be mad at you. I can't get ahold of you."

It's because I've been trying with every fiber of my being to banish you from my mind and end your reign of omnipresence in every waking thought I have.

But I did not say that. I smiled. Shook the boyfriends hand. Stood by myself as a girl who couldn't give a shit about me if I were dipped in gold took off to make me look like a chump.

I drank cheap beers and popped my knuckles. I watched out of the corner of my eye as they shared jokes and leaned in for little kisses. I stared at the ceiling hoping to slide any extra drop of alcohol down my throat so that it might hit me faster.

And I was lucky, because the sad sad music pouring from the stage never sounded more applicable or perfect.

It was a bad night, but a good show.