Late Night

Sitting here with my hair up, dangling earrings, and smelling of apple-y perfume. I was only gone about 20 minutes. Should have stayed in my shorts and t-shirt. It was one of those nights.

Everyone has them, and it turns out tonight was my lucky night. I walked into a crowd that had spilled onto the sidewalk, and pushed my way into the bar. There was the guy and girl at the door who waited patiently while I fumbled for my ID. The noise of the DJ distracted me. More bunches of people to pass by, more shoulders to tap, more sideways maneuvers to a table near the back. I sat there with a friend and a boy she knew. I watched people stumble pathetically, and I wondered if I looked that ridiculous on a few evenings of my own. The girls all seemed too loud, the boys too flirty. I felt annoyed with the atmosphere. The bottle of beer I ordered was only half way gone before I had to breathe. The short walk to the car felt like I was naked, emotions falling off of me and onto the brick path. I drove home to a song that reminded me of him.

It's past midnight now. I so much want to be alone, but it sounds unbearable all the same. What I don't want to admit is that I'm missing him so much that I'm discontent. There are the majority of days that I can breeze though and focus on the good, the almost-home parts. It's past that right now.

Tonight, someone he's there with wrote "Ready for it to be over." My thoughts exactly.