"who is this?" i grumble in my sleepy stupor...it's been a while since i've gotten this call.
"it's me" * sniff *
i am the one she calls from strangers' beds, in her coke-induced fervor.
i don't see her very often anymore.
recently out of rehab, she confined herself to work and the gym...anything to keep her busy.
but just as she has never judged me, i don't judge her.
"are you ok?"
i always ask. although i know she is as resilient as they come.
"i'm ashamed"
i know she's sorry. i know she means it.
"don't be sorry. just get home safe."
"why can't i stop doing this?"
i wish i could answer her. instead i silently cry.
T is the best friend anyone could wish for. i love her to death.
aside from J, she knows me better than anyone else.
i don't have many friends. she's my best.
my one true friend--a drug addict.
and i can't do anything to save her.
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