You may be sick and tired, but you be a man son

Right out of high school I was hanging out a ton with my friend Gaby.
I gave her the nickname "lips" because, well, obvious.  

She was great to hang out with.  A sweetheart.

She had her problems, though. 

Remind me to tell you about the time with the fake rape.
I know, sounds fucked.  It is.  I'll tell you later.

Anyway one of her biggest problems was her mom.
Her mom had a problem keeping money in her own pocket, and in turn paying the goddamn bills.
She'd spend it on witch doctors and psychics and shit like that.  

One morning Gabby wakes up to a smashed windshield and can't go to work.

She calls me asking for the money.

I can lend it to her for sure.  It would hurt a little, but I could do it. 

What do I do?  

Ignore her.  

She must've called at least eight or nine times.

Eventually she got it.

It kills me, though.  She really meant something to me, but
I abandoned her.  I let her imagine the worst.  

Maybe this is the same.  

I dunno.

I'm tired. 

I haven't slept a descent amount of time in two FUCKING months.  

I haven't rested soundly since.

My mind and body are going through some changes that I'm pretty sure will be irreversible.
That thought scared me a couple of weeks ago, but now I look forward to it.

I want to see your face again and hear about all the shit you're worried about.

I want to split some pizza and roll my eyes at something you say, then sit for a long time explaining some shit I will forget about the next day.