(no subject)
I'm doing this here because I'm pretty sure in the after life all there is to do is stalk the internet.
I'm pretty mad at you. At first I was devastated, an emotional wreck. You, of all people, were supposed to be around to the end. No matter what you were always there. Remember that time you hopped 8 trains to get to me in time for my birthday only to be picked up in the yard in Jackson? All of those nights crawling to my bed from the bar, watching shitty bootleg movies till we passed out. We were the king and queen of the streets. No one understood hot jamz like you. You were a trapstar to the very end. The end you little fucker. The end was supposed to come riding dirty on the suncoast line, or from strays while holding down the street. The end was supposed to come from you putting a fucking gun to your head in your fucking living room. You selfish fucking bastard. You gave no signs that this was going to happen. Why couldn't you have let someone in. Was it so hard to be a cliche and show some warning signs? Give all your shit away, say some goodbyes, for fucks sake.
You were always there for me, day or night, it didn't matter. I loved you like we were reunited orphans. You were always welcome in my home, in my life, in my heart. What was so awful you couldn't ask for help any more? You were the most constant person in my life. Nothing about you ever changed, you had the same bike like and combo for six years. SIX YEARS! The only thing I have had that long is that fucking Saints bic lighter you and I passed off for a year straight. I will always keep that stupid fucking lighter.
I miss you, it's an awful feeling. You were one of the good ones, you weren't supposed to go out like this. Trent, you will always be in my heart. Kiss Biggie for me.
I'm pretty mad at you. At first I was devastated, an emotional wreck. You, of all people, were supposed to be around to the end. No matter what you were always there. Remember that time you hopped 8 trains to get to me in time for my birthday only to be picked up in the yard in Jackson? All of those nights crawling to my bed from the bar, watching shitty bootleg movies till we passed out. We were the king and queen of the streets. No one understood hot jamz like you. You were a trapstar to the very end. The end you little fucker. The end was supposed to come riding dirty on the suncoast line, or from strays while holding down the street. The end was supposed to come from you putting a fucking gun to your head in your fucking living room. You selfish fucking bastard. You gave no signs that this was going to happen. Why couldn't you have let someone in. Was it so hard to be a cliche and show some warning signs? Give all your shit away, say some goodbyes, for fucks sake.
You were always there for me, day or night, it didn't matter. I loved you like we were reunited orphans. You were always welcome in my home, in my life, in my heart. What was so awful you couldn't ask for help any more? You were the most constant person in my life. Nothing about you ever changed, you had the same bike like and combo for six years. SIX YEARS! The only thing I have had that long is that fucking Saints bic lighter you and I passed off for a year straight. I will always keep that stupid fucking lighter.
I miss you, it's an awful feeling. You were one of the good ones, you weren't supposed to go out like this. Trent, you will always be in my heart. Kiss Biggie for me.