This is the kind of night where nothing seems to change. Fifteen missed calls and messages. “Are you still alive? Give me signs of life! Call me back I got something important to discuss, Max you’re such a fucking idiot”. When will you become more than just the sum of all your parts? Last time that I checked your problems seemed more than solvable or have you since then dug yourself a deeper hole? I just hate that you’d assume I’d drop everything. Honestly I’ve got enough on my plate, I’m not about to bite off more than I can chew. Chocking to death is my single greatest fear, so when you call me in the middle of the night don’t be surprised if I don’t answer and don’t bother to leave a message. Consider this a final letter to your name. Consider that we should never see each other. Consider that you should take a look in the mirror and consider I’m not the one to take you out of the gutter. I’ve got enough on my plate already. Maybe tonight is when everything’ll change. Maybe tonight is when the tide turns in your favor, and maybe tonight is when you come up with some answers. And that’ll be the day.