a toast

my friday night tastes like a sour $2 shot and checking my phone every three minutes at the bar while a guy i think is cute stands to the side and tries to fall for me but doesn’t because why would he when all i can talk about is how sober i am when my voice shakes with the insecurity of a woman who can’t breathe around older men and now i’m sweating under the bar lights thinking about how at this spot i tried to start a fight because my dad had the audacity to die and now all i can think about is death and daddy issue women with blistered feet and me so i make a silent toast in celebration of losing all my friends here’s to losing all my friends here’s to $2 shots here’s to nervous men and DT roses here’s to waking up never but more importantly here’s to me. here’s to me.

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