Oh, wow.
I really, really outdid myself tonight.
Like, I could not get a foothold to save my life.
Imprecise, scatterbrained, unmotivated, uncentered.
Awful.
So here I sit, with my pansy-ass pour of whiskey.
Sipping.
Sipping.
Hoping she will come back to me.
Banquo. Come back.
I'm sorry I started worrying about your belt and your vest and your stupid wineskin. And whether or not I looked cool holding your rifle. I'll stop that nonsense. And I'll make a place for you right here in my heart and I promise not to ever let you go again.
Just.
Come.
Back.
(NO, I'm not having an affair with some chick with a funny name. See here.)
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