Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor
Dream about me...
It seems like the only thing I've got to look forward to this summer is the new Harry Potter book that is coming out in 3 more days. My grand ideas for summer seemed to have smashed into bits. Expectations have gone adrift, and I'm left here wondering what I should do with myself.
Curiously enough, when I should have so much emotion welling up inside me, I'm conspicuously lacking in any feeling of substance. It's not as harsh as apathy, but I'm going through the motions of things nonplussed.
I babysit by day, I go out by night. I'm like some kind of perverse superhero.
I wish I liked bad emo music. Then I would have a reason to feel depressed. Punk/emo is the new pop. It's cut and dry manufactured, and it sucks. Teen angst can only be accurately captured by Rivers Cuomo or Jim Adkins. The reason most of these bands get anywhere is because they speak to love-lorn teenage girls who think that somehow, some way, a millionaire rock star, who's probably so rich he can afford snorting coke lines off of a hooker's ass every night, is speaking directly to their bleeding souls with their "deep and meaningful lyrics". Pay me a million bucks and I could whore out my writing talents so that I can make high school chicks weep.
But this isn't an entry about music.
I guess I've just been caught afloat. I need something to either ground me, or to take me away. I need something special and magical. I need something that would wrap me up, and have my heart.
I almost said I need her. But I know better. She's been on my mind alot lately. It seems natural. I still can't believe that a year ago, I was anxiously hoping that we'd be together. I remember the night we went to the movies, how I was so upset with myself for not kissing her. Or her sweet 16 party, when I bought her that dreamcatcher and brought her those flowers, that feeling that I had done something special.
I think about her alot, I really do. But I can't let that hold me back from living my life.
I just wish life was easier to live.
It seems like the only thing I've got to look forward to this summer is the new Harry Potter book that is coming out in 3 more days. My grand ideas for summer seemed to have smashed into bits. Expectations have gone adrift, and I'm left here wondering what I should do with myself.
Curiously enough, when I should have so much emotion welling up inside me, I'm conspicuously lacking in any feeling of substance. It's not as harsh as apathy, but I'm going through the motions of things nonplussed.
I babysit by day, I go out by night. I'm like some kind of perverse superhero.
I wish I liked bad emo music. Then I would have a reason to feel depressed. Punk/emo is the new pop. It's cut and dry manufactured, and it sucks. Teen angst can only be accurately captured by Rivers Cuomo or Jim Adkins. The reason most of these bands get anywhere is because they speak to love-lorn teenage girls who think that somehow, some way, a millionaire rock star, who's probably so rich he can afford snorting coke lines off of a hooker's ass every night, is speaking directly to their bleeding souls with their "deep and meaningful lyrics". Pay me a million bucks and I could whore out my writing talents so that I can make high school chicks weep.
But this isn't an entry about music.
I guess I've just been caught afloat. I need something to either ground me, or to take me away. I need something special and magical. I need something that would wrap me up, and have my heart.
I almost said I need her. But I know better. She's been on my mind alot lately. It seems natural. I still can't believe that a year ago, I was anxiously hoping that we'd be together. I remember the night we went to the movies, how I was so upset with myself for not kissing her. Or her sweet 16 party, when I bought her that dreamcatcher and brought her those flowers, that feeling that I had done something special.
I think about her alot, I really do. But I can't let that hold me back from living my life.
I just wish life was easier to live.