Party by Felicia Spencer

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I look around at the butt packed ashtrays, the half empty beer bottles; now more backwash than brew, and I wonder what happened.
What happened to the oh so pretty life i have tried to cultivate.
What would they say if they could see me now? Me in my torn pjs, hair amiss, breath smelling of stale whisky.
Whould they say that they were right; right for teasing me, right for hurting me oh so badly?
Were they right when they said that i will never be anything beautiful?
I stare at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, at the garbage can filled to maximum capacity,stinking oh so badly,and i begin to pick up the peices.
My anxiety goes down more and more as each new task is acomplished.
Dusted tables,
Vacumed floors,
Washed dishes.
I begin to feel like my self again; I suddenly remember that I am something beautiful, beautiful apartment, very intelligent, men find me attractive;I have a wonderful fiancee afterall.....
They were wrong about me if they saw me now they would be ashamed.
My enviroment is clean and therefore so am I.