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My old friend

My old friend. Iím missing you. Itís ages since Iíve written. The last time was when we were in Lisbon. Canít quite remember why I was writing to you then. Was I pissed off or just drunk? Anyway, How are you, are you missing me? Are the bars as exciting without me? Theyíre not are they? We were so good together! The stuff of legends! Though at times you treated me badly, really badly! You promised so much then left me in a mess. You were like a femme fatal. I miss the good times though. The times when we ruled the roost. Held centre court. Even now when telling someone new Iíve met that Iím not boring .You may know my friend, he may be an aquantence, but you donít really know him like I do! Let me tell you about the times we had together. That guy youíve met, heís not really a good friend of the booze. I really know him. Listen to me! But now, look at me Iím in pain. Mentally and physically. Itís like the love of my life has ditched me. Why are you so hurtful to me? You fucked me. Now Iím alone. So weak, so boring, so fed up. But, I canít go back to you. Itís not easy my old friend. You have always been there for me: In times of trouble, in times of happiness. I hope this is the last time I will be writing to you.

Lovingly yours.

Story by:

Nick Clarke

submitted at 11:07am

18 May 2009