Yesterday ended tough. It started okay. Andrea and an associate of hers met me at the studio. Andrea and I needed to catch up on things. I am so proud of her. I knew she’d be a superstar in our business. It was just a matter of time before she would explode.
We were supposed to go out to a happy hour around the block, North 3rd. We sat, they were about to order drinks, me a bourbon. It fucking hits me “We have all these fucking drinks in the studio, what the fuck are we doing here?”.
“Ladies, let’s head back to the studio, fuck this. Oops Trish, I have a foul mouth. It just rolls out naturally.” I declare and admit.
We head back to the studio, half a block away. Jenn and Sarah were just about to walk out and meet us, DD as well.
“Nope, we’re staying here.” I tell them. “Ladies, what would you like to drink?” I ask Andrea and Trish.
“Tito’s and Tonic?” They seem to both agree.
“Coming right up.” As I walk towards the kitchen in the back of the studio.
The studio is nice. Team seems to like it. It’s a stop gap until we get our space. Bogart’s. Our coffee shop slash agency slash creative hub slash shared workspace slash club slash whatever we want it to be.
Visitors always seem to be in awe when they walk in. There’s a 2nd level with a balcony looking down at the rest of the front space. Ceilings are really low on the 2nd floor. I love height. Lots of height. It’s cozy though. There’s a sense of closeness to it. It’s kind of growing on me.
In the back of the main area and through a short corridor, you’ll come up to the studio where Nic films and shoots photography. He’s so fucking talented. I love his fucking work. Dude has “it.”
The kitchen sits on the far left. That’s where all the liquor is stored. And a full stocked fridge with an assortment of beer.

I prep the vodkas, added lime wedges to the rims and walked back towards the front of the studio.
DD, Andrea, Trish, Jenn and Sarah. Matty stopped by to say “hi,” he just got back from Dallas to see his two little girls. Love him like my little brother. He gets irritated when I call him “little brother.” He wants to be my “big brother,” but he’s 8 years younger than I am. Dumbass.
Matt Paul stopped by to have drinks with us. We had a lot.
Somehow, Matt and I end up driving Andrea back to her house. She shows us around. Gorgeous house. She takes us to the roof deck where Matt and I wanted to have a smoke.
I honestly don’t even remember what Matt had asked me, but I lost it. I was hanging on from the fence crying profusely. I was weeping while answering him. He puts his arms around me and I can sense him crying with me. It went on for a good minute or two. Tears just flowing endlessly. I couldn’t stop them from coming out.
“I can’t drive. I’m no shape to drive back home, Matt.” I confess.
“You can crash at my place.” He assures me.
“You sure bud?” I double check.
“Of course bud.” He smiles.

We reach his apartment. You were helping him find one last year, until he found it first.
It’s really nice. My lord the real estate in Philly is super fucking nice. I am shocked. You and I would have loved living there. We were seriously thinking about moving into the city, you and I. I love the city. I am alive in the city. The people, the people watching, the stores, the walks, the rides, the always on the move. I love it.

His dog Oliver greets us at the door. Beautiful dog. Cute as hell.
I seek it when I walk in, the couch.
I lay down.
I needed to lay down.
My mind was broken.
My body was broken.
My spirit was broken.
My heart was broken.

This is the pain that I caused you. I broke your heart, and now my heart breaks and will continue to break until the day I kiss your lips again.

Good night my sweet.

I love you,

Me