vodka noodle soup: it’s the new moving the date forward
[if you don’t get that, it’s not my fault. you’re just stupid.]

tonight i don’t want anything. i’m not hungry or tired or angry or full up with stories. i just think it’d be nice to tie up some loose ends. it’d be nice to see you and not feel compelled to rush our lives into any direction. or to just enjoy the delicacy of letting moments passed uncounted—unchecked—the way greedy people do without understanding their own fortunes. i wish on something sacred that that’s all we’ll ever need to remember that life is and always will be better having survived this all. that we’ll never argue over burnt pasta or who forgot to make the bed. or other trivial matters. that i’ll never have to confess over plenty of drinks to a friend i’ve known for years that i suspect you are crazy or that better yet i’m afraid that you might try to kill me. these possibilities not even a possibility any more. and i’m just thankful, really, that you’ve somehow decided that you’ll see me through it.