I’m not sure what it is about weekend evenings and drunk texts but they often happened with you and me. Then this fallout was carried out and I, though realizing that I could not get away with the same bullshit I used to with you, decided to play the sorrowful victim. Because I’ll be the one to admit out loud that I’m too mentally weak to walk away without coming back with an apology.
I can’t exactly fathom what made you finally decide to drop.
Can’t say I blame you, can’t say this isn’t a mixed blessing.
But I can’t ever get that sort of friendship back. You’ll always represent that moment in time when I held something so intoxicatingly precious, and just like the rain falling down from the grey skies on a spring afternoon, I shut you out when what I needed most was a run in all that bittersweetness.