me and january 11. 2018 – san francisco part two

friday

i sit on a bar stool for five minutes, until people start to get nosy.

and now i am outside by myself because i am planning a suicide. i’m thinking about you. i’m supposed to meet up with you soon.

while i sit alone i book a hotel. it’s the closest one to the bridge that i can find and it’s a little bit expensive and i don’t care because in a few days i will never have to worry about money.

i also book a flight, and i have to leave. i’m leaving early on monday morning.

i leave the bar and i see you. we watch songs.

i leave you

and you tell me that you trust me and that you love me.

because i cannot hide these cracks anymore. because i break into crying like a spontaneous musical number and i’m wearing my sadness now like an unenthusiastic badge of awkward and pathetic.

saturday

she said –

without knowing

‘i will miss you.’

& she gave me my those days before death – in uber rides to animated movies and wandering the halls of hotels and then on to the suburban butt-metal bars.

and now she knows for sure that these are my last days and i can see her and know that she knows.  i can see –

beside anybody and beside her and beside the obvious that i’m crying and shaking in a dumb blur of time. i can see –

that i’m already done.

i’m already dead, and these are the moments that i will keep snug in my pocket and these are the precious poses of time that will be etched into the walls in my eyes when i finally let go of the rail –

monday

apartment is clean and trash has been taken out and i’ve gone through all of my belongings and anything that could potentially be awkward for my friends and family to find and that might cause some post-death humiliation is now gone. i’ve packed everything into a suitcase that i might need. i scrubbed my shower and the tiles in my bathroom floor and wiped the mirror until there were no streaks. i  washed the dishes and wiped down the front of the refrigerator. but still, to whoever has to clean up my apartment in the next three to seven days and has to try and designate my personal items – just know that i tried to make it easier for you and i’m so fucking sorry.

uber driver is here.

i’ve left my car in the parking lot and the extra key is on my desk. obvious.

once i am in the car, i go to facebook, and i update with one last pun. when i’m gone, i want people to remember how much i loved puns.

and then i turn my phone off. it’s nearing seven in the morning, and they won’t find me at work.

my uber driver asks where i am going.

san francisco.

i love san francisco. have you been before?

yes. when i was younger.

i’m jealous. what a fun time.

(what a fun time)

he’ll never know why i’m going to san francisco. he’ll never know what eventually happened to me.

when he drops me off i tip him ten dollars. because he’ll never know what eventually happened to me.

but it’s okay, because he’ll never think about me again.

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~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2018/01/11.

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