What is Next?

I want my money.
I want my juicer
And by the way
I want all of
my nudes
on a thumb drive.

He couldn't be nice to me unless he was comfortable, he said.
It's not my job to provide comfort.
He was an alien.
He only liked digital relationships.
I found his cam girl files once.
I backtracked on his browser history to girls he was talking to before me.

He left no trace; just the skeleton of proof; but left worlds and worlds of pain. 

I feel guilt.
I feel like I robbed myself. 

I paid for my own ride to hell and half way back I just
got lost.

Lost and found.

My best friend got put into the psych ward about four times during the downward spiral of my relationship and my career.  How did that happen?  Empathy?  Sympathy-mid-life-crisis?

My friends called me for a lifeline.

(I'll take your calls for a lifetime.)

Having side effects
from medication and not the fun type.
Dizzy.
Couldn't drive because of anxiety about why I was feeling dizzy.
I don't need brain medicines.  Exercise fixes my brain.  And sleep.

Sick as sick could be.

Never sleeping enough.

He got me sick on his way in,
He got me sick on his way out,
Before he took his stupid trip that ended us.
The trip that ended our trip.
I was trippin'

The 28 year old was sweet talking me at night
And the stupid Liberian asshole sent me a dick pic video via snapchat.
And everyone was reading signals that I was available
Not respecting my relationship was the theme.
But it was that my needs weren't being met

You like this big ass?

"You have an ass now and you never did before" said the paramedic friend from first grade who went to AA 'classes' and made a baby with a girl I met for the first time in the Apple store when my entire life was falling apart.

That day I waited for my computer to be fixed and found more humanity sitting at a table with strangers than I might have had in three long years with the two day parker.

I turned Jeremy down and he contributed to my political demise because I didn't want to get back together and he needed to flex his masculinity and 'hate fuck' me metaphorically because

I stopped

fucking him.

Literally.

One man at the apple store was a cop.  I said, "Oh. Yeah, the murder suicide that happened must have been tough" and he said

"yes.  It was."
It could be any of us.  Witnessing someone losing it--- you can't fix a person if they're broken.
You can't fix any person.

People go crazy all of the time.  The thing is that you can come back from crazy.

You can snap out of a fantasy.
You can live out a fantasy. 

You can also choose to burn it all down to the ground. 

I have this choice to make.  It's my world.  So.
What do I want?

I have dreams too. 

I'm not here for your comfort or entertainment.

That just happens. 

What is next?