she couldn't come, cause her insides were rotting. and, for once, he didn't care. and he thought, 'maybe this is progress.' and, maybe, these confrontations and nights of bad sleep and drama and doubts and feelings of being unfulfilled are how it's supposed to be. maybe this is just what life is. and, really, is it so bad? sometimes you just have to step back, enjoy a home cooked dinner with friends, and retire to some bukowski. cause most of life is just what you do to make it to the peaks. and that's not so bad.

posted by adam @ 10:53 PM