The “I’m broke” part
I throw the
pre-loaded card in the trash, it’s no good to me any more. The accounts empty,
finally.
It was a reminder anyway.
Now, maybe, I can just starve to
death. I thought I would die living on the streets, then by drinking, then by
drugs…
But I’m still here.
I stare deep into the trash wondering for half
a minute what I’m going to do next. But I know I’m fooling myself. I’m still
looking because I've been living on the insurance of…
Livings the wrong word, existing…if any word
fits. The emptiness returns and I feel as dark as the hole I’m looking into. I
turn away. I have the cash in my pocket, I know where to go.
I know
what follows the emptiness.
Remembering?
I can’t
have that.
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