Maybe I’ll talk to you sometime later.
I say that a lot.
Maybe because I always want to talk.
Maybe because I never really know what to say.
Maybe because I’m afraid that if I stop talking, I’ll have to sit alone with my own thoughts.
And honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
So here I am.
High on beer.
Freshly out of debt.
A little better paid than yesterday.
Not as busy as I pretend to be.
Still talking to people I probably shouldn’t.
Still missing people who are no longer mine to miss.
Still trying to become someone I can live with.
I want to talk every day.
I want to be left alone.
I want to change.
I want to remain exactly the same.
I want someone to listen.
And sometimes, I just want to send a message at 2 a.m. and pretend I had a reason.
Maybe I’ll grow out of this.
Maybe I won’t.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up, drink some water, regret a few messages, go to work, pretend to be busy, and continue being the same person I was tonight.
Or maybe I’ll finally understand something.
I don’t know.
I am a confused, middle-aged man.
And tonight, the beer is wearing my voice.
Or maybe—
for once—
I’m just saying what I actually feel.
Lol.
