Someone out there will find me. She will walk the aisles. Browse the search bar. Drink Apothic Red. Leave a glass, or two, on the kitchen counter. She will explore her Michael Kors wallet searching for dollars, receipts, records of her last transactions. Money for her next transaction. She’s hopeful. Optimistic. Doubtful. She believes in a better tomorrow. She knows this moment is a moment in time and like all moments, they pass with time. She reads. She writes. She smiles. She cries.
She knows what it’s like to be dependent. She knows all too well the need for independence. She’s a lover, fighter. She is someone I once was. She is someone I may still be. She is just like me.