the party

it’s hard to not throw yourself a party when the decorations are all hung up

perfectly packed therapy autographed biographies

gift bags ready for those who you have wronged

but the phone rings and rings and nobody answers

not those who hate you

not those who said they’d come

and the phone rings and rings

and they’re on a 3-way together

and they’re all talking about you

but you’re calling on a tuesday at 3pm

and it’s 9 in germany and she’s on a second date

or starting a lunch break running on a deadline crying through a break up

because no one even thinks about this

or they do and they blame themselves just as much

or are reteaching themselves to blame you

and the party is a contest for who’s got it worst

and no one showed up because they’re all crying in the bathroom

half dressed through outfits that everyone will hate

and you just wanted an excuse to talk shit about people some more

or downgrade the yous you could’ve been if you hadn’t been wronged

or the thems they’ve become without you around

and you’re harsh on people because someone got to be cruel to you

and you realize you are the one who hates you the most

and in every version of you you swore you were doing it right

and in every remake we would’ve done it wrong

and there are past versions of us that used to like parties

and they deserve to be forgiven for not coming too