What I could have done was gave that evil ass boy a cigarette and maybe he wouldn’t have threatened to kick my carry-on bag across the hotel lobby
I dunno
I could have let that dude who was doing the heroin nods that I bought a double Scotch for thinking he’d accept that alone as payment, sex me up, and give me coke, and then probably tries to rob me or something instead of taking off running down the lobby of the hotel into the parking garage like a psycho
who could say
I could have sat there and talked to that drunk guy, or that really old guy, or that creepy gargantuan guy, or the strange guy that stopped me to tell me he was watching me eating dinner and I was so pretty but I didn’t
and yet I felt the pain of all of this
like
I had done
I feel it now
triggers cause me to forget how to emotionally regulate
it hurts
but in a pinch
that’s what dildos are for
My Mind, My Mood, My delicately poisoned pen... 