Feb 21, 2008 02:10
i put my apples in the wrong basket. then realized i only had oranges to begin with.
my focus was on the fruitless pleasure of tearing up bedsheets, instead of what never was and could have been.
i havent had this much fun since i listened to jared as he blushed like a school girl over details and general tao in the place montreal food court. wanting nothing more than to throw up my deep fried delicacy for both dietary and self-hating purposes. oops arent they the same thing?
i told him as we walked through the gates of the metro that there were three things i wanted when i got home and that all three would not be there. two were a phone call away.
and i told him that he shouldnt do what id be doing. practice what you preach. dont do what johnny shoudln't do.
blood moon, blood orange. they both taste the same when your night is soaked with gin and your walk home has the same salty taste as those olives you could eat by the handful.
alcohol always exaggerates emotions, he said. is that why i cried on the way home?
dont burn your bridges or you may not get back home
deh