if you could see the sad look on my face
It sounds simple, I know. But it's not. Listen, there are a million worlds you could make for yourself. Everyone you know has a completely different one - the woman in 5G, that cab driver over these, you. Sure, there are overlaps, but only in the details. Some people make their worlds around what they think reality is like. They convince themselves that they had nothing to do with their worlds' creations and continuations. Some make their worlds without knowing it. Their universes are just sesame seeds and three-day weekends and dial tones and skinned knees and physics and driftwood and emerald earrings and books dropped in bathtubs and holes in guitars and plastic and empathy and hardwood and heavy water and high black stockings and the history of the Vikings and brass and obsolescene and burnt hair and collapsed soufflés and the impossibility of not faling in love in an art museum with the person standing next to you looking at the same painting and all the other things that just happen and are. But you want to make for yourself a world that is deliberately and meticulously personalized. A theater for your life, if I could put it like that. Don't live an accident. Don't call a knife a knife. Live a life that has never been lived before, in which everything you experience is yours and only yours. Make accidents on purpose. Call a knife a name by which only you will recognize it. Now I'm not a very smart man, but I'm not a dumb one, either. So listen: If you can manage what I've told you, as I was never able to, you will give your life meaning.
I'm so afraid of losing something I love
that I refuse to love anything.
and i saved all my love letters, if i ever sent them he'd see that's the hardest that i ever tried not to let somebody love me.i used to call you baby,
but never to your face.
i used to chase you round and round,
but only at my pace.
i used to say i love you,
to your picture in a frame.
i used to tell the world about you,
leaving out your name.
and i guess i could have fought for you,
bashing down your walls,
convince you that you needed me,
walking dead end halls.
but what's the point, you know?
because i always would have lost,
i'm lucky, i got a broken heart,
for only half the cost.
All my mistakes have become masterpieces.