Minneapolis Belongs to You

When you're dead, you will be survived by a total absence of surprise, by the wistful sighs and dejected shrugging of all the losers you were fucking. When you're dead, your phone will still blow up, your friends still calling to buy drugs. 1,000,000 unread messages asking where the after party is.
When you're dead, you will be reunited with everyone you used to get high with gathered together in a warm place indistinguishable from L.A. When you're dead, they will all be sorry about all those times you borrowed money, about all of your unrealized dreams to go to school for cosmetology.
When you're dead, they will toast your life at your friends' shitty DJ nights. No one will hear their speeches clearly, they'll all just think it's someone's birthday. When you're dead, the hardest hit will be the girls who aren't legal to drink, the months of grief they'll have to fight through so they can grow up to be just like you.
It's yours.