Who Knows?

There’s always some other girl waiting around the corner, but instead I walk straight listening to the wind in my ears thinking of turning the other way getting a beer, but damn I’m broke, and that bar would break me for the week. Instead I find my old truck missing the side mirror, and drive away to dinner at home, alone with a few beers that was all that was left in my fridge. Afterwards I feel like going out, but I pick up a book instead. I’m saving up, I’ll go out tomorrow night I tell myself, but in reality, I’ll probably be doing the same again. I don’t know where I should go anymore. Too many couples, and I’m not as good a third wheel as I used to be. I wonder where all those conversations went, that meant something, but it’s too late to start over with the same people, that only know me in a certain way.
Maybe I should go away. Find myself again, or stop pretending. I’m not entertaining anymore. My stories have dried up, and I don’t feel like talking to anyone, unless… but no he’s not here, and I may be gone before he resurfaces. If letting go were losing, than I’ve already lost it all, and there is no reason. I should be going. I always found a way, even when money just wasn’t there. But I don’t go, anywhere. I just sit here, retreating further into who I was, if I could get there again, but not that far back.