Fiction - Yes...

I look around, and smile. They're here, with me and for me. My friends.

One is pissed. A secret, known to but a few, has just been dropped on his lap. I should've told him when sobriety was his preoccupation, but alas, drunkenness has befallen him.

He always knew, but he's angry that it took this long for me to tell him.

He thinks, deep down, that the easiest way to get back at me, is to tell the world. But other issues interfere.

He and I need to talk.

--

Yes, I don't know if I should've told him. Yes, she'll be pissed if she ever finds out that he didn't figure it out by himself.

Yes, this isn't fiction.

Yes, I don't care.

--

When you let your family go, and pray for peace of mind, your friends are all you have left.

My friends.

I am bereft of friends. Yes, they are here "for me", but the one I need.. the One I Need...

She's gone.

She's my angel.

--

Meanwhile, he huffs and he puffs, and he threatens. This is why he never found out.

In one moment, he was given the freedom to be judged. He was given the choice to be viewed, with neither apology nor restraint. And he failed his test, miserably.

Because the first words out of his mouth were, "I knew it!'. And the second were, "I'm going to make sure she knows that I know".

... Yes.

He has failed me.

--

And then there is the blue-eyed girl.

I'm trying to be good. And trying to be bad. But someone, somewhere... they're telling me to grab her, and not let her go.

Too many women.Too many choices.

Not enough friends.

Yes.

I miss her. The one I could trust. Her voice echoes in my head, when I need it most.

...

Tonight, I want nothing more than trust. Nothing more than somene to tell me "it's going to be alright".

And tonight, it's the one thing I won't get.

-The Tired, Tired, Tired Bastard.