There's a psychic, she's says my destiny is turning out all wrong.

I can't wait until I'm thousands of miles away from you. Where I don't have to be the only one left to take home. Where I can pretend to be however I want because no one will know how I really am. I can't wait to say goodbye at the airport and peel this city off of my skin, forgetting what has been here for years, who has watched me take shape. With booze in my veins and smoke in my throat I told you I didn't care. I told you that I might not want you at my goodbye party, that it would be too awkward, too hard. Then I went to work the next morning and took four pills to save me and watched the floor bulge and twist as cars rolled into the bays. Lights flashed out of the corner of my eyes. "I can do this," I thought, "It's just one day." I went home and slept for 14 hours. In the morning, I worked out to purge the filth of last night from my skin. I made phone calls, tried to track my mother (already drunk at 4:00) through downtown, and listened to words I didn't need to hear, but needed to make me feel stronger. Now I really don't care. Now I really don't want you. I remember holding your face in a tree-fort, with people puking on the lawn below us. "I miss you, I miss you," watching people fight, leaving in your car, undressing in a bare, unfamiliar room, tasting cigarettes and beer and wishing for a toothbrush.

Tonight I have dinner with my mother. If she's too drunk to cook when I pick her up, I'll just buy. We were supposed to make a pie. Play housewife. Drink with friends. The other one doesn't want to see me, but I don't really care. It's not her anyway. It's a shell of a person that once had self-respect. Everyone sees the death in your eyes. Everyone notices the change for the worse.

Another night where, beyond my control, I end up looking like the asshole. People can't apologize and drop things, they have to use their friendship and time like a tool, something to be given and taken away. When I drink around them, I notice the space driven between us. And you wonder why I wander off. You wonder why I'd rather be alone. Rather be gone.

"All the lights that lead you there are blinding."
-Oasis