And in the end none of it mattered. She let four months clean go free in a matter of ten minutes, but was it worth it to turn the music all the way up and shut out the world and watch it all pour out like red velvet? This was why she didn't depend on people. They were never really there when you ever really needed them. Her insides (and outsides) were a mirror of that, weren't they. In the end, it all meant nothing. She wasn't strong enough and she struggled through four months for no reason. This was it, wasn't it. Sitting on the floor full of balled up tissues and the traces of red, red, red velvet. All there was, was
red
velvet
all
over
because
this was it..
wasn't it?
