I said my bitter sweet farewell to August with a bottle of red. And as expected, I was greeted good morning by September with a throbbing hang-over. I had to celebrate. I had to thank heavens I survived the month of my pain. I had to get moving on.
Last night you asked if you can call me. A tiny portion of my tipsy brain succumbed to the idea. I've been feeling better these past few days. I've been a little okay. I don't want to lose it. I don't want to go back to zero. So I said "No" like I've mastered the art of it. I guess I wasn't drunk enough to allow despair to creep into me again. Maybe I am ready to let you go now. Maybe because it's already September.
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