I didn't know what to say, so I improvised. At least I thought I did when I said,
"I don't think you should die. No. Uh-huh. I don't have control over you. And that's something I try to remind you. Uh-huh, well stop complaining. Alright. Okay. Yes I'm here for you! And you know, I want you to spend more time with yourself. Wait. Ok. Yeah, ok. You're not trying to figure out who you are yet, and it's painful. Yeah? What I want? Well, what I want you are afraid to do: and you are afraid of being alone."
When I hung up the phone I was alone, which wasn't entirely true. There was a bottle of unopened bourbon on my desk and a tumbler with ice. Not alone.
I heard a voice in my head as I took a long sip, 'You know... a part of me doesn't want you to have money for that reason. You drink too much when you can afford it.' I looked outside, it was cold. When I saw my reflection in the glass, I thought one thing: for now.
