For the record, I don't entirely believe it was just pity

Think about how much  you owe on the water bill. Think about stomach pain. No, don't think about stomach pain. Think about baseball. No don't think about baseball. Or you'll risk thinking about the bedroom for your brother. The one your mother made six months before she died. The same room the cousins you raised now sleep in, probable will until they graduate from high school. Just think about anything but him.
Think about crow bars! Play the game over and over again until this awkward moment that these held in tears have sense to fall into passes. Don't think about how he'd walk into a room and be the only one to say, and mean, "that drawing is good."Don't think about how he saved your life. Don't think about his name. Don't think about his career. Don't think about his life so inappropriately connected to yours for  a blip of time stolen with but the price of sheer despair and pity. Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think about how there was only one man who made you believe in angels. Because you'll think about maybe you'll survive. Maybe you'll surface. You'll think things aren't so bad. You'll think to try harder. Just for him. When you know he'll say 'No, just for you."

Clouds

I realized I should live the life I have. The life of a young, slightly attractive woman with some spare money and maybe not too much talent or sense but ambition. I'd give a kiss to any man who'd give me a chance at this world. Lay my life down on the line for five cents worth of credibility in a good company. I know who myself to be. And this is not her. Weak, sick, not admired, unprepared, flailing, blaming, sleeping too much and working too little.
Whatever this comes to, it can't come to this. I'm worth more that this. I see more than this. I know more than this. I don't have to live this way. Who cares if I've failed? Since when has this world built itself up from anything but failure?

Fifteen Minutes

"Are you okay?"
He shouted through the passenger side window of his car.
I gave him a thumbs up and a weak smile.
"Are you sure?"
Thumbs up and slightly better looking smile.
"I'll buy you a drink when I get back in 15 minutes!"
He shouted again through his passenger side window rolling it up this time and driving away. As if that offer made all difference in the world. I'll be in the arms of someone softly holding me in 15 minutes. I'll be crying my eyes out to family in fifteen minutes. I'll be forgetting that I had a nervous break down in front of a bar in fifteen minutes. I'll be vacuuming the floor I promised to vacuum in fifteen minutes. I'll be doing the dishes, the trash, put the dog to bed,  all the menial work that keeps a relationship alive.
I'll be soothing myself, I'll be talking myself down, I'll be making amends, concessions and compromises that will hurt but be for the ultimate good in fifteen minutes.
In fifteen minutes time this will all be over, brushed away and gone because I am who I am and there's nothing that drink can do to make that any different.

And after fifteen minutes I don't know what the hell I'll do with this life.