Fuck this.
Dearly beloved are you listening...
"Fine, walk out. Leave. You're really good at that."
"Great how much practice you give me, isn't it Car?" I said as I walked out, slamming the door behind me, trying hard not to melt my keys in my hand. God I can't believe her. Every time I try not to get pissed, she always has to freakin' say something to make it worse.
Every time.
I can't remember a word that you are saying...
Like I don't have a handle on where my life is going. Bullshit. Like I ever didn't want her to stay apart of my life. She never gets how much she means to me. It's the fucking dumbest thing in the world, and I'll never get it.
I went down the stairs, concentrating too much on not melting my keys to stop the trashcans outside from blowing up in the alleyway. Oops. Oh well, not my freakin' problem right now. Right now, I'm going to drive, probably spend the night over Madsen's, and then deal with my clueless girlfriend's crap all over again.
Are we demented, or am I disturbed?
Why the hell do we have to fight like this all the time? Like we're supposed to be at each other's throats. I know I love Carly, I know it. I wouldn't have freakin' stayed around this time if I didn't love her.
Of course, it's the God damn 'this time' that's biting me in the ass. No matter what I do, I'm never going to be able to fix that with her. Not until she's willing to be okay with it. And God only knows how long Carly's going to hold onto that grudge.
I don't get why we keep doing that to each other.
The space that's in between insane and insecure...
And now, I'm driving down the street, away from her, and it really feels like I deserve all the crap she gives me for leaving. That is what I'm good at these days. Whenever I get pissed enough, I just walk out. Like I can't handle it. I just hate fighting with her...
God damn it, I don't want to be guilty! This isn't my God damn fault. It's hers. It's hers.
"Damn it!" I slammed my fist down on the top of the dashboard. "Damn it!"
Oh therapy could you please fill the void? Am I retarded, or am I just overjoyed?
Why should I feel guilty?! Just because it's my fault that I left, and that I should have known she didn't want me to leave, doesn't mean...
Yes. Yeah, it does. It is my fault. Everything. We probably would have still been together if I hadn't freakin' left. Sure, we'd have put each other through hell, and... Look, I don't know how it would have went, but it'd probably be different.
She wouldn't hate me as much.
Nobody's perfect and I stand accused...
... I have to fix this. I have to go tell her I'm sorry. Screw being wrong this time, I don't care what kind of crap I take for it. I have to tell her I didn't mean to screw things up like I did. I didn't mean to hurt her. If I don't tell her... I don't want to know what'll happen.
I need to go fix this. Right now.
I turned as fast as I could into a parking lot, turning the car around and heading back out onto the street. "I'm going to fix this." I have to.
For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse...
Then I saw the guy turn in front of me. The red sports car that was going just about as fast as I was, with the music blasting, bass pounding out of their stereo, and not looking like it was going to get out of the way in time. I saw it, but I couldn't turn. There wasn't anytime.
They say when you get in a car accident, everything goes in slow motion. I always thought that was a load of crap up until now.
Everything really does slow down. You know what's happening, but you can't stop it. So you have to go along, because you really don't have much of a choice. A couple of seconds can seem like a couple of hours in the right situation.
And then... time's normal again, but you're still completely helpless, stuck in a lot of twisted up metal.
I can feel something stuck in my stomach, and it hurts like hell. I can't move, I can hardly breathe... And I know I'm not getting out of this, that's the worst part. I can't make my arms and legs work, I can't see straight... I can't do anything. I'm not going to get out of this, I know that.
Everything's fading out...
... But I know.
"Fine, walk out. Leave. You're really good at that."
"Great how much practice you give me, isn't it Car?" I said as I walked out, slamming the door behind me, trying hard not to melt my keys in my hand. God I can't believe her. Every time I try not to get pissed, she always has to freakin' say something to make it worse.
Every time.
I can't remember a word that you are saying...
Like I don't have a handle on where my life is going. Bullshit. Like I ever didn't want her to stay apart of my life. She never gets how much she means to me. It's the fucking dumbest thing in the world, and I'll never get it.
I went down the stairs, concentrating too much on not melting my keys to stop the trashcans outside from blowing up in the alleyway. Oops. Oh well, not my freakin' problem right now. Right now, I'm going to drive, probably spend the night over Madsen's, and then deal with my clueless girlfriend's crap all over again.
Are we demented, or am I disturbed?
Why the hell do we have to fight like this all the time? Like we're supposed to be at each other's throats. I know I love Carly, I know it. I wouldn't have freakin' stayed around this time if I didn't love her.
Of course, it's the God damn 'this time' that's biting me in the ass. No matter what I do, I'm never going to be able to fix that with her. Not until she's willing to be okay with it. And God only knows how long Carly's going to hold onto that grudge.
I don't get why we keep doing that to each other.
The space that's in between insane and insecure...
And now, I'm driving down the street, away from her, and it really feels like I deserve all the crap she gives me for leaving. That is what I'm good at these days. Whenever I get pissed enough, I just walk out. Like I can't handle it. I just hate fighting with her...
God damn it, I don't want to be guilty! This isn't my God damn fault. It's hers. It's hers.
"Damn it!" I slammed my fist down on the top of the dashboard. "Damn it!"
Oh therapy could you please fill the void? Am I retarded, or am I just overjoyed?
Why should I feel guilty?! Just because it's my fault that I left, and that I should have known she didn't want me to leave, doesn't mean...
Yes. Yeah, it does. It is my fault. Everything. We probably would have still been together if I hadn't freakin' left. Sure, we'd have put each other through hell, and... Look, I don't know how it would have went, but it'd probably be different.
She wouldn't hate me as much.
Nobody's perfect and I stand accused...
... I have to fix this. I have to go tell her I'm sorry. Screw being wrong this time, I don't care what kind of crap I take for it. I have to tell her I didn't mean to screw things up like I did. I didn't mean to hurt her. If I don't tell her... I don't want to know what'll happen.
I need to go fix this. Right now.
I turned as fast as I could into a parking lot, turning the car around and heading back out onto the street. "I'm going to fix this." I have to.
For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse...
Then I saw the guy turn in front of me. The red sports car that was going just about as fast as I was, with the music blasting, bass pounding out of their stereo, and not looking like it was going to get out of the way in time. I saw it, but I couldn't turn. There wasn't anytime.
They say when you get in a car accident, everything goes in slow motion. I always thought that was a load of crap up until now.
Everything really does slow down. You know what's happening, but you can't stop it. So you have to go along, because you really don't have much of a choice. A couple of seconds can seem like a couple of hours in the right situation.
And then... time's normal again, but you're still completely helpless, stuck in a lot of twisted up metal.
I can feel something stuck in my stomach, and it hurts like hell. I can't move, I can hardly breathe... And I know I'm not getting out of this, that's the worst part. I can't make my arms and legs work, I can't see straight... I can't do anything. I'm not going to get out of this, I know that.
Everything's fading out...
... But I know.