Miserable But So Worth It

I have just spent eight hours sitting in a field in the heat and humidity drinking Miller Genuine Draft from a plastic bottle. My hair frizzed up. I had to watch a ton of skinny, ugly bitches walk by with cute boys. I wondered to myself if maybe I should become anorexic instead of tanorexic. (Lola has a little junk in her trunk if you know what I mean.) I sat in a fold out chair and felt like a total redneck.

I'm now mosquito bitten. I've saw three Lolitas wearing my TAG watch. I was jealous. Bitches didn't deserve a TAG. I do. I watched girls flirt with boys that were their friend's boyfriends. I saw people in wifebeaters. I saw girls in heels in a field trying to be cute. (Don't wear heels to a field.) I saw way too many tattoos and I have tattoos. I saw girls wearing too little clothes. I saw couples being so fucking cute with each other I almost threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Why would I do this to myself you ask? The Bitch wanted to see the fireworks. I'm a good friend. Fireworks I can do for a friend. Even if it means being miserable. But selfishly, I also wanted to hear this. I also wanted to hear this. I really wanted to hear this. And I wanted to see if this made me cry. It did. But it was worth it.

I'm tired of looking for the light at the end of tunnel. I want to be able to breathe. I'm tired of living with his ghost. I'm tired of dreaming of his face. I don't want to be the victim anymore. I really don't like the pain. I don't care about the new car or the house in the hills. I just want someone to buy me a garden where my flowers can bloom. I want a new life.