Shaking in the morning like I've been kicked all night.

I hate money.
I hate not being able to drive.
I hate Mr. Lube.
I hate whiners.

Days are flying by now, so quick they all blend together and congeal until I'm tripping over chunks of Monday and falling face first into Friday. I uncurl in the cold mornings and cucoon into bed at night with one thought on my mind. It's not what you think. It stays with me all day at work, curling my lips downward into a frown and provoking memories still warm with regret. Should I have told the truth? Spilled my guts and feelings out onto the floor for him to wade through? Stuck around to collect all the frayed ends trying to fake a fairytale? I don't fucking know. It's useless to look back, I have to put one foot in front of the other even when the weight of all these friends and lovers are pulling me in the opposite direction. It's so cold. I wish I could pull off a few layers and dig for the nice girl I know is hiding somewhere in here. I wish you could meet her. Why did I have to be so dark with you? Ah, it's just not worth pining over. No matter how many times I try to figure it out, the situation will be the same. At some point, I will have kept too much of my heart for myself and I'll find myself alone in a strange city with mere visions of your face to soothe me to sleep. I'm sorry.