Going or Not

It was supposed to be simple.

Phone call. Confirmation. Buy tickets.

That's all I wanted. Are you going or not? Because I'm sick of the girl alone thing. Sick of the attitude that takes. Always being on your guard. Safety in numbers.

And it dissolved into the same complaining . . . always the same story. "Too good for this" is your f-ing mantra, I swear. And so I called you on your shit. And you yelled at me. Yelled. Yelling. And I hung up.

There was a call of apology. Which dissolved again into "don't be like that" "don't patronize me". And so I kept quiet . . . which made you even more unsure and made me exhausted. Exhausting not telling you what I think . . . especially when you ask me what I think. But you don't want to know.

So I guess girl alone at the show . . . again . . . it is.