Who the Fuck Cares

I moved in with my companion shortly after my return from Jersey. It wasn’t planned. For a city so unpopular, the whole city of Pittsburgh would be booked almost every few days for concert this or festival that. Hotel hopping can not be done here. I tried to stay at the Days Inn on the weekdays and the Holiday Inn on the weekends. I paid every morning and had my favorite rooms. But when an event was going on, even the $300 hotels were booked.


One weekend with my new companion turned into a 3 months stay. It was rough at first. I am so bossy, selfish and bitter in the mornings not even a Snickers could fix me. And I’ve tried! My afternoon starts with a fourLoko and a Black n Mild lest I’m at work, then I start with shots. Anyway, this in-between time before I become a drunken nuisance which seems to always be the result, this in-between time I am me from 2009. I am 18 again. My best friend is from Brooklyn, NY. Everyone thinks I act 12, I’m stupid and I’m high. But I’m just “green,” a virgin with a 3.8 GPA whose hypermania makes her emotions extremely intense. I’m bubbly, spontaneous, and ready to awaken every man old at heart to remember their youth. Remember the innocence, freedom and carelessness. You pray the feeling is contagious. Even if you never had that childhood, in this moment you escape into what some call “false sense of reality” but what I call happiness.  O it’s so so insane, when I’m up there I fill like I just
want to stay forever. So I take another sip or a shot. Another sip, another shot. Another slow sip, another suddenly angry shot. And whether I like it or not, I’m leaving that space.

My eyes are closed, I try to focus on the music. Focus on the music and stay there. Then at some point I do what I’m afraid to do. I look around and remember where I’m at. I’m not in Vera Wang gown, I’m in a stripper dress. I can’t wear this dress anywhere else. These people are not my friends, they will not remember me. We are all in our own bubble of joy. If we remember one another, it won’t be for anything “great.”  Why am I always fighting to be remembered. Wherever I’m at when I open my eyes, its all the same. The truth screams harshly, I can’t live like this. I’m screaming now. I’m worth more than this. Bastard wouldn’t tip me because I didn’t kiss him. I hate this shit. It will never be enough money. I want to live by the beach. Nobody cares. Nobody ever does. The same speech over and over. Only now I’m in front of my companion, who was just moments ago laying in bed at 3:30 a.m. and is now silently smoking a cigarette on the edge of the bed. He’s probably wondering how can she be so beautiful and yet so ugly? How can she be so full of life, yet so quick to dead everything? I used to ask myself these questions but who the fuck cares. I am who I am and this is apart of me. I can’t be mad over what I can’t change.


But he can. And one night, he did. He cut my speech short, and screamed himself, “What’s wrong with you. You used to be confident. All you care about is money. You still made alot of money. I’m tired of this shit.  You need help!” He never yells or gets short with me. I think I was more hurt that at his face when he said I needed help, whatever it was, the next day I went to see the nurse.

I never like the words LOVE because people treat them like just words. But, I’m touched that my companion, really loves me more than I love myself. It’s scary.  Now when I give my speeches, and I get to the part No one cares, we look at each other, laugh at how we know I’m having a bipolar moment, laugh at how we both know its not true. Not anymore. The day I saw the nurse, I brought home a cake. I didn’t say, I love you. I didn’t say, I’m sorry. Without speaking, in more ways than one, he knew I cared.



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