3am

Hey there,
it's Barbara, can you see me?
Maybe put your glasses on, that might help.
Better?
No, its Barbara.
Barbara.
Remember me?
Barbara.

Yeah, that one.

It's 2am. Sorry, I know I'm about an hour early, but better early than never, right? I've come to visit you, make sure you're alright, feed the cat, water the cactus, be your company. I know you dont really want me here now, you'd much rather someone who was punctual. But every now and then, I just want to check and see if you're actually still alive.

I find you're much closer to being dead than the last time I was here, but I guess I think that every time I come see you. You're usually on the verge of death.

I guess I also visit you because we share certain qualities (that I feel rather foolish for sharing with someone like you). You're usually lonely, and when I visit you, I'm made aware of the fact that I am lonely too. And you dont really sleep, another thing you make me see in myself. And really? You dont have much of a life. Neither do I when I visit you, we just sit, with two and four around. Sometimes your neighbours make me uncomfortable, they're always there.

I've been talking for so long, I'm almost on time. Your time. I hate that it's always about you. For once, I think I'm going to just leave. I know you wont die tonight, your neighbour is always two kind to let me think you've died. You'll be fine. You'll make it to tomorrow. Maybe I'll check up on you then.

Have a good hour.