March 6, 2010

  • i am nineteen years old and the world is crumbling around me.  it's so strange that you can always bring me back to that place, that sad insecure place.  especially since so much has changed since then, so much about the way i feel for you is so many lightyears away from the passion i felt then.  but it still feels the same, still feels like i'm standing in the middle of that parking lot in those heels, watching your bumper disappear and wondering what i did wrong.

    because i never can tell, exactly, that point i hit where people think it's okay to leave me behind.  i wish that i could point to that instant, that split second where i stop being someone you cared about and started to be someone you hate.  and i understand that hate, because 98.6% of the time i hate me too.  i've started to realize that the real reason i like to be alone so much is because i can't imagine anyone would want to spend time with me.  and it's a bit hard to handle when you only solidify those fears.

    the worst of it is you know what it does to me, your disappearing act.  in the years since the first one we've talked about it, how much it sucked when you left and didn't say why.

    and so, all you dashing gentlemen of summer, i have to turn away.  close up shop, stop thinking you'd always be one of my best and oldest friends, someone who only had the best intentions for me.

    i've got plenty to work with, besides.  if i wanted to, i could be happy right now.  but that would be just TOO normal, and so i take the friends i love and the man that adores me and push them away, waste away my days thinking of people i've loved who've taken to ignoring me.  i think i like the pain of it, the wanting of things i can't have.  but i also know that i expected so much more from you than this.  so much.

    say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
    like this city is on fire tonight
    this could really be a good life

    sometimes there's airplanes i can' t jump out
    sometimes there's bullshit that don't work now     
    we are god of stories, but please tell me-e-e-e
    what there is to complain about

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