Goodbye

You could have called to say goodbye. I might have tried to stop you, but maybe not. Everyone has the right, and maybe even the duty, to fuck up their own lives.

The last time that we spoke did I ask if there’s anything I can do? Did I say come over? Did I say let’s hang out?

I’m sure you sensed the envy and resentment in my tenor, resentment that you cut me out.

I thought it was because I still drank, but now I realize that it was because I’m an asshole.

Maybe we didn’t have a lot of love anymore, but we had a lot of history. Memories. Events. Even other dead people. A hundred misadventures and probably only a couple legal entanglements which mostly didn’t stick.

Were you my sidekick or was I yours?

Who does what we did? Who survived what we survived?

Now, only me.