Oh, The Interesting Priororities Of The Broken Hearted
Oh yeah I was drunk.
Wait, I wasn’t drunk I was drunk to the 10th power. If you imagine that cliche trip of girls to the French Quarter of Louisianna, that was totally me! Sure I was silly, lost my head, and said foolish things while dancing all night; but I have never had a better perspective on what mattered most to me until after my purse was stolen in New Orleans this weekend totaling over $600 in losses.
I sat on the edge of my bed, in a drunken stupor kicking my feet back and forth against the carpet, mulling over all the material items I had lost. I counted on my fingers like a kid tallying up the cash that was gone and how much a new Long Champ would cost and shrugged my shoulders in apathy. The room was spinning and I couldn’t slur out the words to get my girlfriend to stop snoring, but I had never felt more stable minded and clear headed.
The only sinking pangs of loss come to me when thinking of the irreplaceable text message I saved from a few weeks ago; the words he sent in the middle of the night that broke our year long silence, answering questions I stay awake asking myself every night since he left.
Shit, I’ll buy a new phone this week, spend more on new lip gloss and Louisiana Tshirts; but having a sentiment archived from the person you love is priceless.