• by,
    (c) Bbear
    6/23/09-7/20/09

    Lauren calls me, again, drunk.
    She got herself stuck in another bad situation,
    Of being bored at some random person’s house with no ride home
    Because she stupidly didn’t think or plan that far ahead.
    I sigh and roll my eyes,
    Then ask where she is. I’m firm; I have a sharp edge to my voice,
    As I’m trying to get directions, yet again.
    I get that way when I’m frustrated and annoyed.
    Sometimes I hate myself for getting too involved in her constant drama,
    I find myself always worrying about her,
    At times almost parent like.
    She’s so out of control;
    I wish I could get her to stop using and drinking,
    She says she “needs” to be drunk to feel comfortable around people.
    To calm myself I drive fast and blast my music,
    Music and cars are my choice of drugs.

    When I get there Lauren decides she’s not ready to leave just yet,
    Making me seem like an uptight kill joy.
    I know I can be bossy, and I hate it.
    But it’s what needs to be done to get her home,
    And she’ll thank me in the morning, as always.
    I hate that I always have to be her conscience,
    When I know she knows better.
    But I keep on answering those phone calls,
    And bailing her out of jams.
    ‘Cause that’s the kind of friend I am.