…but don’t say that you loved me…
Originally published at Dancin' In The Wind.... Please leave any comments there.
29th. A definite month, no matter which way you look at it. Strange, I think? I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter I guess. It is what it is.
Things have been confusing. Yet again, because I brought it upon myself. I suppose I just can’t shake the fascination? Maybe. who knows. What a joke.
November 14th is fast approaching though, and for that I am thankful. This time of year brings about new stress. Pressure to keep it together- knowing how much there is to lose, and how, in all reality, how incredibly easy it is for everything just to…go. just once. once. hard to believe once hasn’t come and gone
It happened last year. It’s happening this year (although slightly earlier), and it will happen next year, and the years following until I grow up…and smarten up along with it.
I’ve had zero energy the past two days. I’ve been out way too much though. The past 3 days or so, I’ve been out all day. Apparently we’re redoing our bathroom without telling my dad…that should be interesting.
I really need to order those stupid AudioAdrenaline tickets soon. I’m kinda wishing I actually cared. I mean…if I could- I’d just not go. I really don’t care for some reason now. But I know that I’ll regret it if I don’t. Is that not stupid? How pathetic is that. Like…if I were this lame about school- I’d understand it because it’s boring, and…just…school. But Audio?
I think I’m just tired of show drama. It’s easier to act as though they don’t exist instead of thinking about twisting an arm to get there, the drama at the actual show (depending on the band, of course!), the money, the guilt, the driving. It leaves me wondering why I even care at this point? I think I’d really rather not care at all about shows…and that’s the thing- I don’t think I do.
There are like 3 Sanctus shows in the state in the coming few months. One Sunday actually. Not even an hour away. But I’d have to drive myself, not sure where it is, not sure about tickets, I hate my camera- I hate the turn out I get in pictures, it’s just so much easier to throw my hands up and convince myself that I don’t care.
I pretty much hate hearing about bands I like going on tour now.
I’ve always taken the easy way out, and I always will. I’ve always been the one that never succeeded, but I never failed. I’ve been in the middle my entire life. I’ve never been great at anything- just…in the middle at everything I do. And I think the end result of that is me not loving anything- just liking it. I could take or leave just about everything in my life…which consists of what? Stupid recluse.
No one ever had any expectations for me. Good or bad. If I do something horrible, it’s nothing new. If I do something good, it’s nothing new. I am nothing new. Nothing is new, but that’s a given, but you know…actions being new would rock just a bit. I feel as though I was born to disappoint, but having no expectations- is that possible? Not even expectations to me, nothing people expect me to do- but just…figure I’ll do. No one expects me to win. No one expects me to fail. They just figure I’ll stay here. I’ll stay right where I am, and keep moving forward in life. never up or down. Externally, at least. My position is only constantly changing internally. Such is life. Such is life.
People talking have been driving me crazy for a few days now. It’s never ending. I mean, it used to be that it’d just bug me if it were pointless- if they just ramble on and on. But just hearing someones voice…I just want it to end. I don’t want to hear people talk. And that’s not overly realistic, is it?
*sighs* I’m sitting here on iTunes, trying to find a song in my playlist to listen to, and nothing sounds good. So of course, I revert back to Drainpipe. Out of 2000 songs, I can’t find a thing I like. Go figure.
Life should make up it’s mind. Screw me over, or be my friend. Choose one and stick with it. It’s not that hard.
I’d love to blame the idiocy of this post on it being 2am…but alas- it’s 2pm…and I’ve been up since 8.
What a joke. I sit and laugh.
maybe i was too pale maybe i was too fat
maybe you had better, better luck in the sack
no formal education, and I swore way too much
i swear you didn’t care, cause we were in love
so as i write this letter, and shed my last tear
know its all for the better that we end this here
lets close this chapter, say one last prayer
but don’t say that you loved me.
storrrryyyy of my life.
*bangs head on desk* is it too much to ask to NOT be annoyed by people? Talking to people over the past few days has just made my skin crawl. My dad comes in, and just the knock makes me want to puke. “what time does mom want up?” “4″ “…………will you be in charge of that” “yea” “…………………….okay” Like…really now. we do this every weekend. do you not think I know when she wants up…and if I dont, have I not always shown myself to wake her up around 4 and ask her?
pleeeeaaasseeee. I don’t like conversation just for the sake of conversation. Come to think of it, I don’t much like conversation at all, but that’s another story.
And you cant fight the tears that ain’t coming,
Or the moment of the truth in your lies.
When everything feels like the movies,
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive.
I don’t care. I just don’t care. Believe it or not it’s true. I’m tired. I don’t care. It doesn’t change a thing, but everything all at once. You make it worse. So much worse- beyond anything you could ever imagine. And you shouldn’t- it shouldn’t be this way, I get it. I know. I’ve had that fact slammed into my head so many times before- but it still rings true. You affect me. Because I believed you. Or I needed you. Or whatever kind of situation there was between us. I want to cut it off and run away. But that’s not possible. Because you make this horrible. And God knows it’s just too wrong for me to run away from horrible things, right? I mean. Where would the fun be in that? You want to have your way with me? Fine. I give up. I give in. I don’t care. If you saw what you were doing, would it be any different?
….yea….I didn’t think so.
Time to go run away from myself. How can a thousand different stories all be the same? If this wasn’t all so incredibly predictable, I wouldn’t believe it. But yet, here we are once again. suprise, surprise, surprise.