The disease of humanity and the placebo of love.
I won't be content until it's all over. Until I've ruined everything. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to type or write or whisper into the phone. I don't know how to explain this empty feeling that has me completely bursting. I'm so completely full of emptiness.
The song "Clocks" by Coldplay would be the perfect leaving song. Not even the lyrics, just that truly sombre melody played over and over again as I walked away. The credits would roll, but the screen would still show my shrinking figure as I walked down Garber Street and the rest of my life. My back always in the center, and always turned away from what could have been. Or what should have been. If you entered the room at this moment and had no prior viewing of the dramedy love story that is my life, you would assume this for a happy ending. And who am I to ruin your assumptions?
Remember when everything was perfect and everything was beautiful and every breath that entered my lips was sweeter than the one before it? If you do, please tell me about those days. I wish to reminisce.
Broken hearts can never heal. An old man lives on my street. He was married to a woman and she left him one day in the 60's. He now lives alone in his mother's house. He's outside a lot when I drive past and I wonder if it eats away at him? If the "could have"s and "would have"s and "should have"s keep him awake at night. If they sleep in his bed and poke him and make his pillow flat. The ghosts of the past haunt him. I don't want to that to be me.
Cody laughed at me the other day and said, "Damn, you fell hard."
I'm sure of two things in this world. I'm a male and I love Emma. Being that I'm a male; I'll more than likely develop prostate cancer or testicular cancer and die. Being that I love Emma . . .
The song "Clocks" by Coldplay would be the perfect leaving song. Not even the lyrics, just that truly sombre melody played over and over again as I walked away. The credits would roll, but the screen would still show my shrinking figure as I walked down Garber Street and the rest of my life. My back always in the center, and always turned away from what could have been. Or what should have been. If you entered the room at this moment and had no prior viewing of the dramedy love story that is my life, you would assume this for a happy ending. And who am I to ruin your assumptions?
Remember when everything was perfect and everything was beautiful and every breath that entered my lips was sweeter than the one before it? If you do, please tell me about those days. I wish to reminisce.
Broken hearts can never heal. An old man lives on my street. He was married to a woman and she left him one day in the 60's. He now lives alone in his mother's house. He's outside a lot when I drive past and I wonder if it eats away at him? If the "could have"s and "would have"s and "should have"s keep him awake at night. If they sleep in his bed and poke him and make his pillow flat. The ghosts of the past haunt him. I don't want to that to be me.
Cody laughed at me the other day and said, "Damn, you fell hard."
I'm sure of two things in this world. I'm a male and I love Emma. Being that I'm a male; I'll more than likely develop prostate cancer or testicular cancer and die. Being that I love Emma . . .