Lower Haight

I’m not sure why I came over. It’s late, I’m tired, and I’m sober. Everyone in the apartment is drunk and high. I left my ex-CEO’s dinner party to hang out with people I’ve never met before because of you. When I saw you leaving earlier, annoyed that I wasn’t leaving too, I chased after you. I can’t bear it when you’re upset at me. For one second, I forgot where we were and who might see us kissing inside the elevator. I accidentally hit the fire alarm and was too wobbly to stand on my own. You let me lean against you as I said goodbye. You told me to not let the night end there. I should have. Now, I’m sitting on the floor sipping a warm Stella and passively listening to your conversations about drugs and the girls you’re fucked before me. You list out the times that you’ve called me when you’ve been fucked up with these friends. I watch you as you snort cocaine and refuse when you offer some to me. I take a shot of shitty tequila with you so you stop nagging me about not drinking. We stand outside on the stoop as you and her continuously smoke cigarettes and chew straws. The stealing straws story makes no sense to me and you’re too high to notice how out of place I feel. You offer me your beanie to keep me warm. I forget that I’m wearing tights and your friend gives me her shoes so I don’t ruin them. We embrace tightly to keep warm and I breathe in the smoke that’s pervaded your favorite sweatshirt. It’s well past midnight and I’m starting to nod off as we sit twisted together on the couch. You keep kissing me in front of everyone, but I realize afterwards that this is only because of the molly you took earlier. I wish you wouldn’t leave out these details until you confess to me later out of guilt. Your friend challenges me in Call of Duty as you can go off to do more coke. I pretend that I’m in the game so I don’t have to listen to that nagging voice inside telling me to leave. But I can’t stop thinking of how late it is. It’s now 2 am. The bars are closing around us. You ask me to go back to your place but you’re clearly not ready to leave. I can’t stay another minute. The sex is never good when you’re wasted and I just want to be alone now. As I leave you, I worry that we’re falling apart even though we’re not really together. I fall asleep crying but wake up feeling fine.

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