memories of not caring (or: how i display that i have no self-respect most of the time)

"what's a pretty little thing like you doin, being all by yourself for so long?"

"like that's any of your business!" and i looked away because he didn't deserve to know anything about me.

"right, well, why am i here then?" and he took more of his whisky into his mouth.

"because i'm drunk, and you're drunk. and neither of us wants to be alone, despite the fact that this is a bad idea."

"you're right."

"no shit, sherlock." and i turned off the light.

thank god i left texas behind me, right?