Over my shoulder

It's so cold it's made me extremely lazy. I've been snuggled in bed all day. Ridiculous, I know. I have to go pawn my laptop for the 40 millionith time and buy some drugs, and go out with my friend for breakfast tomorrow. I hate scavenging under cushions for quarters. Especially when I've exhausted the supply a long time ago. My new house is so spacious I feel like I've been exercisng more, just by living here. Two lounges, a dining room with a chandeliar, a kitchen with a huge window, and a nice green view. Rare in Montreal, most views are a foot a way from a concrete wall, or someone's toilet window, or something equallay unpleasant.

I haven't fully unpacked, the files and clothing need sorting, so I've been procrastinating, but I've unpacked the precious things, that make me feel at home anywhere. My NZ postcards, green and blue, beside my pillow, where I see them first thing, and last thing. Alongside, a picture of the two friends I miss the most. One who's dead, one who's so different she's not in my life anymore anyway. Often, I think about her, and wish past things hadn't happened. I try to forgive her, but I know I'll never be able to trust her. She's always been like that, a boyfriend hunter. It perks her up, having things she shouldn't, even if they never call her again. But still, I have her in my heart, I can't get her out. I wish I could claw myself way back, to that moment in the photograph. The three of us, as close as friends cans be. I can feel that night, I know it inside out. But I want to live it again for real, if only I could.