OOPS, outta beer…
Aug 8, 2017 · 2 min read
I’m packing again. This time I am glad to be done with this, this mess I put myself in. There is no anger, no spite no “fuck you.” Just a Oops, outta beer moment…
It feels like, one of those high school parties, a little fuzzy, a bit unreal. When the party runs out of beer, it’s over. You close one eye and drive home.
I am not sure why I feel so numb. When he talks to me in that deep Texas twang, with stories that last… FOREVER, I get tearful, why??? Because his stories go on and on… I would love for him to just listen, I really don’t care where he goes… just goooooooo.

