and just as i have you haven't. more proof that we share the same torture. your songs were mine once. words. now. just. from. the. distance. reject as a reflex.
we kid. at times i must seem so smooth to you. so sure. so able. i see how it happens. i help it along cause i like it. but really, what if i couldn't find someone to want me? what if my nerve fled my body? only left to cling to the bar. the tips of my hung head hair dipping into the wet spot of an empty shot. problems i could have with this are mine but would end up being not entirely my own. and definitely not pretty. fucking isn't love. love wouldn't be rocked by fucking. it's the aftermath. the tongue not able to be held. the belle and sebastian i became doesn't exactly know how to fuck. this makes me nervous. silly am i, i know, but i don't want to lose at what would have to be my own game. i would throw it in your face as something the flop never was. someday i will resist that urge and someday i won't have it. but th eperson of this day can't handle it no matter how much she wants to. for fun. for dickens. first name charles.
anyway, you didn't ask for an explanation. i did.
no one has ever made me feel like this before-- the worst and most wonderful all wrapped up in one.
i'm wearing a skirt tomorrow. carrying a camera even if the only way i use it is in my head. sitting on a park bench to write a note. recopying the page i tore out cause that was silly. having a wrap with as much crispy green lettuce the sandwich dude can fit in there. skipping to my interviews in my grubby van chucks changing only at the very last minute. saying hi to someone i have neglected. kissing hi to my onlyone. meet me in our corner. gonna rent a room by the shore. gonna grow up a little bit. gonna win a pet and name him mr. beasley even if he's a her. gonna attempt to make you sweat.
i am happy to be where i am.