Shook Up

Yesterday. Tracy told me about her birthday, of how she went on a date to a nice city pub with a cool guy. He was tattooed and wore a stylish baseball top. They got on, made small talk about their lives, ambitions and dreams. They planned to meet again next week.

Today. The guy who took Tracy out on her 31^st birthday texted her and said he doesn’t want to see her again. He said she’s lazy! Tracy works 2 jobs; her artwork, which was a hobby and sells quite well, and in the car factory, to pay for her weekly tattoos. His name was Liam. He says she has no ambition. Becoming a paid artist means nothing to him. He says we see the world differently. We do. My art comes 1^st Tracy humbly mentions. My artwork and planning and getting new tattoos. If making it as a best selling painter is no ambition, I’ll raise a pint to him when I get my next art gallery commission cheque. Liam won’t get a fucking penny.

Tracy always has time for someone. She’s not one of these people who’s too busy. That just aint her. She’s a nice gal, yet she’s been single two years and two months and is now past caring. It’s an academic fact. Some things just aren’t right. I wish I could help my friend Tracy...