Lacey.

(first off I apologize for the last piece of shit entry)

I look down at my phone again. It just won't stop the vibrating every night with the drunk texting. It was cute at first and now its becoming unbearable, the constant struggle over whether or not he means well or he is blacked out again.

"I hate you!" I roll my eyes slamming the phone.

Lacey come out, please...

It hasn't always been like this. There wasn't always this constant power struggle, even though I've been winning this whole time; or at least I like to think that I've been winning.

I walk over to the table and reach for my wallet, pulling out a money tree plastic card. Its a source of embarrassment and relief. I throw my body against the bed, something about the flop is always comforting like being caught in your father's arms in the deep end of the pool.

The table is relatively clean just a few pieces of paper lying about, the usual bills. Under the table I pull a small jar that my mother gave to me the last time she went with "Uncle" Charlie to Tahiti. The smooth round jar is cold clay with an emerald color lining. Pulling out my safety pack I take a pinch of powder and fill the table using the money tree card to divide and conquer.

I snort the line.

I go to the bathroom to run some water around my nose, the numbness always throws me off. The aspirin tasting drip is like an annoying poke in the side by my baby brother. I whip the crust and blot. I can hear my phone vibrating on the table top.

Lacey, where are you.

I text back, I'm coming Brady, just had a few errands to run.

I flop back on the bed and curl up in the blankets, its so warm and so comforting. The vibration sound is becoming more obnoxious.

Where are you?

"I'm coming, ahhh! God! You're obnoxious!" I scream. I throw the jar under the table. I trace over the line with a dampened finger and then lick the remains. The drip won't stop.