Music: -
It's a quarter to one and my body feels like it's been violently pulled apart by a bunch of savages only to be reassembled again by a group of cheap inexperienced doctors. Every limb connected to me feels somewhat precarious, like they were just hanging on to a slim thread.
It's somewhat refreshing and calming, this entire process of writing and having music drown out the silence in my living room. My face is flush and red because I had just eaten about a half hour ago from not eating the entire day. Suddenly my blood is rushing again! But I don't quite feel alive.
Life hasn't ever been quite this hard for me. Please understand that I'm not complaining because I have a plenty of things around enough to sustain me. I'm just saying this in a-matter-of-fact fashion. I've had one of the longest day in my life and it's so odd to be truly independent. I don't have a car, I don't have many friends and definitely no family. All these important links you've built in your life are now gone and you're kinda left to put 2 and 2 on your own. You only have yourself.
My best friend once told me that I'm just the kind of person that likes being miserable. I couldn't say I agreed with her, but neither could I say that I disagreed either. Things are starting to look up and there's this person who wants to spend a Friday night with me. Watching a movie. Walking down town. Drinking cheap beer. A part of me says, let go and feel the wind in your hair while you drive down Broadway but another inch of me withholds and tells me it's never going to work out because it sounds too good to be true. He will be like every other guy you've had in your life: cheap.
I can slowly feel myself pulling away from ever feeling real emotions. I distract it with taking on ridiculous amounts of workload and today, for the first time ever, the word "workaholic" crossed my mind. It didn't scare me. I could see it in my head, my future. Pencil skirts, hair in a bun, pen trapped between my lips, a big meeting room and my mind only focused on getting my job done.
I wish I had the guts to hurt you the way you've hurt me in the past. We both know I can't. The truth is, I've lost all faith in you and I'm skeptical over every word you utter. The truth is, I've spent too many nights staying up, composing letters addressed to your name, sealing them only to be burned. And as I watch the ashes rise up to the air, only God knows the depth of the hurt you have caused me.
The truth is no matter how hard we try to mask the cracks that have formed, we can never run our fingers over smooth surfaces ever again. My only consolation is that someone else will love you and I can only hope that she loves you as much I did because that's what you deserve, if not more.
You knew all along that I was never able to give you that. So now, I acquiesce.
