one way or another [drunk conversation at the bar]

1am, at the local bar.

She points a finger at me. I stare at the finger, drunkenly, and follow it up to her face. It's my best friend's girl, and she's sitting across from me.

"what's wrong George? Bummin?"

I nod my head.

"It gets to a certain point, everynight. I'm out drinking, getting my head caved in again under booze, and I realize that this night will be no different then the rest. I get to the point where I realize there will be no change to the routine. And I get bummed."

"Yeah," she says, understandedly.

"Too many memories," I say. She nods.

"It sucks, that not only do we break up, but on top of that, I hit a dry spell. Nothing's lasted longer then a night. And you know, what sucks the most? And this isn't a call for pity, this ain't a sob story, but I honestly, in my heart, believe she has totally stopped loving me." She doesn't try to argue it. I like her because she's a realist. She doesn't buy into the notion that love is forever and ever. People can stop loving, and I had been shot in the face with it.

"When J did that to me," she says, "when he said, 'I don't love you anymore', it was one of the worst things anyone has ever said to me. ...It'll hurt for a long time." I nod.

"And what really gets me, what really kills me, is that she threw away all my love, everything I have to give, everything she once had for me, for a fucking rebound. A godamn fucking rebound! It's like... what the fuck?!" I say, smiling and chuckling the pain of the facts off.

"She's hurting as much as you are,"

"No," I say adamently. "No, she's not. She's not. She's not. She has her distraction. It wouldn't of been so easy for her to push everything we once felt away if she didn't have this new boy." She nods in agreement.

"Oh, of course. ...look, I know girls," she says laughing, "every girl wants to be the strong one in these situations." I am silent. "She hurts as much as you."

"Maybe before she found her new boy. But not now. Not now. There's no way in hell she hurts like I do."

There's a pause.

"I don't even feel like I'm good friends with her anymore. When I saw her, I looked in her eyes, and I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. A void. I felt like I've known her for 3 weeks. You know? You spend five years of your life with someone, 4 and a half of those years living with them. Knowing nothing else except them, you develop a connection that goes beyond words and action. You can just feel it,"

"Oh, I know." she adds.

"and I felt nothing. especially not any love."

"That's rough George."

"And to add insult to injury, I have to live with this, knowing that I broke up with her. As though it negates any remorse and regret. As though, since I've brought it on myself, I deserve every inch of this hurt. And I guess I do. But it hurts and it sucks. It fucking sucks."

"It's gonna suck. It's gonna hurt for a long time."

"It's not even about getting back together with her. Even if she called me tomorrow and said, 'let's try to work this out', I know it couldn't work. I'm... I'm too far gone in getting fucked up. All I'll want... all I want, is to get fucked up on booze and pills now. I'm not the same person I was. There would be no chance of reaching any kind of "normalcy". I would spend my time either crying, or getting fucked up. The only way we could ever work again is if I checked myself into rehab, and that ain't fucking happening because all I want is to get fucked up. I don't want to be sober. There's no fucking point in it. Being fucked up is my only distraction. She has her distraction with a fucking godamn rebound, I have mine with booze and pills."

She's quiet for a moment.

"If she doesn't feel any hurt, then she's an evil bitch to begin with, and you don't want to be with her anyway." she says laughing. I dont laugh. I lower my head. She's not an evil bitch, she's wonderful. But she doesn't hurt anymore. She doesn't love. She doesn't feel anything for me. But she's not an evil bitch. It was just... easy for her.

"I don't know," I say.

"I have this... rage. Not a violent or malicious rage, just a rage to speak what's in my heart to her. But I can't. She doesn't want to hear it. I can't say anything, so it's bottled up inside me. I have no outlet."

"Well, you'd better find one before you do something you normally wouldn't"

"No, no. It's not like that. It's not violence. It's just a rage to speak my heart. To let it all out and and yell and cry and scream and throw it all up in one massive outpour. To let the words locked in my heart out to her. But it will never happen. ...what makes me the most sad is knowing that I will never spend my life with her. Never. It's gone."

"It's for the best. You'll pick up and you're gonna travel. Spend time overseas. That will be good for you. You'll learn so much about yourself."

"I know I'm gonna move over there and see if it works... but besides that... I don't know anything anymore."

"Just my booze right now. Just my pills when I can't drink. ...I'm bummed I couldn't pick up those muscle relaxers from them earlier. Oh well, I'll get them tomorrow after work."

"You'll be ok, George." She says. I believe her.

"Yeah." I stare at my drink.

One way or another, I'll feel ok.