Ok, so it's cam here. Um Trav invited me here awhile ago, and I was like COOL, and then I got shy and didn't ever post anything, but like I also don't really have that much to post, because I mostly just write songs...But every now and then I write something that doesn't require music going in the background, and I figure, WTH? So here is something from more than a year ago (where does the time go? Like for real?) that I wrote when I was, yes, drunk;
Welcome, then, to the drunker side of buzzed. Crack!-and heres to the next step of a short journey...
Once again, the only reason I am writing is because I am sad, and yes-the only reason I am sad is because of a boy, who, in the long run is not worth the absentee tears I seem to be made of.
Oh-fucking-well. Because here I am on friday night doing what I do best, and why shouldn't I?
Oh God, and it's just a matter of time that I will be quote unquote "drunk enough" to utter to him the truth, splay it all out in a slurred, beer-breathed sort of way, so completely empty of grace or even cohesive thought that I will no doubt be met with some ugly hate-filled confusion that will warrant nothing less then suicide that my toes and soul will cringe-yes I should be THANKFUL
that tonight was merely (and what is it now?) step two in a short journey.
But I'm not.
He is pretty and I have been deconstructing that ideal, perhaps because what is pretty? I mean he is no one only as much as he is everyone, and if he only knew that level of anguish I go though just existing in the same universe (let lone-LET ALONE! the same town) as him then maybe his honor would grant me something else? But what is it I'm after again?
He is fodder, and the fodder is fickle because he uses my name like he was born with it in his mouth and I have been deliberating over his for weeks? Months? Yes, months. I have everything to loose because I have next to nothing, which I hold very dear to me and the worst case scenario is more then I can bare to even dwell on for more then moments-which (of course) relatively speaking is not that bad. I don't care.
And flash forward to a time when the bed is made for two, what art will I have then? I should be thankful.
But I'm not.
Feb 24 2006
Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll never leave high school, which is kind of weird considering I never went. Or maybe that makes complete sense...Any way, thar she blows. I hope you enjoyed or whatever, and just in case you're wanting to hear the sound of my voice, somewhere around 2:30, when what's her face forgets the words...
Till next time...