Nico is just so lonely when he’s with you.
He took the M train to your party last Thursday at 11, got there by 1. The party’s over, but he just wanted to say hi.
He wakes up late for work, but he pulls through somehow. He went to your house party. Now he’s at work again.
I asked him, quietly, why he never stayed at home. He said the worst thing for his ears was to let his mind do the talking.
Nico hit up Jackson at noon. They met near the baseball field, walked around Hell’s Kitchen. They both are texting friends.
Everyone’s at work and it’s noon. Who wants to hang out at noon in New York anyways? Jackson doesn’t work on Thursdays. Nico should be doing homework.
They walk into a bar, sit for a burger. Kelly finally texts back. She says come over and so they go. They all hang at her apartment. Nico has another beer or two.
And he’s a lightweight, so he’s fucked up. Not really fucked up, but he’s ecstatic, and he’s not usually ecstatic.
But it doesn’t last for long and soon he’s back to feeling normal. And normal is just okay for Nico.
He falls asleep for a hot second, but it’s okay. He’s happy.
Nico is happy when he sleeps, or when he’s really into his PlayStation game, or when he’s watching sports. Nico is happy as long as he’s attached to something, riding the wave of someone else’s vibe. But I wonder if he’ll ever be happy alone, because Nico is the loneliest person I know.