please stay on the side of the road. I want to make it home.
today marks a year.
you moved, I stayed.
you moved on, I learned the meaning of unconditional.
I’ll watch you love someone else; that’s my reality. year after year.
moving shit from metairie to mid-city is a bitch.
…but a real pretty bitch.
when one gets convicted, one can mentally prepare his/herself to play a game. the game isn’t the actual incarceration, no; it’s preservation of sanity. do not mistake sanity as a relative term. sanity is not to be manipulated, for then it becomes insanity. -k
“I still love you. I still want to hold you, kiss you..you know, but I keep telling myself that you don’t want that. I can’t help but think about you. I keep telling myself that there’s no hope, no chance that you’ll ever want me again…right?”
“right. I’m really, really sorry, but it can’t happen. I don’t feel the same.”
…but really, all I could think was:
I’m in this situation twice..but in the second situation, it’s reversed and I am person one. then I thought: it’s been almost 8 years, how could he still feel the same?…then I saw it: my future. that will be me in 7 more years. in 50 more years. I’m so fucking fucked. love should never have been invented. it is and will always be my ruin. I will never love those who love me back; because i’m too busy still loving the moved-on. at least I figured this out now. you know, so I can focus on shit like friends, school, work, kickball, and a business. or maybe i’ll just continue to become a slave to apathy.
both wings shot
WE GOT OUR KEYS! move-in day just got bumped up to tonight. now I can walk home from kickball tomorrow night, fuck yes.
oh hello, midcity. proud to officially call 70119 home.
…and I can walk to Finn’s? fuck.
Alright, cunt monger, I’m calling you out.
Stop stalking me. You don’t talk to me, we aren’t real life friends, Facebook friends, or even tumblr friends, but your psychotic self seems to disregard any of that as you stalk on. Either grow a pair of balls and follow me, or please, disassociate yourself from having any knowledge of my life through excess means. thank you! :)
I’m flattered; but I’ll never feel the same way… I’m sorry.
There was a time in the not-so-distant past where I was here with you; holding you up to the window, naked. The flawless, beautiful front of your body was pressed against the window. I was behind you, reaching up through the middle of your legs, moving one hand from your stomach down to your clit. My other hand was running up your back, neck, and eventually through your perfect hair. I kissed your neck, but I mostly played with your ear. The window started to trickle with condensation. The remaining description I will keep to myself, as it’s what I’ll dream about as I sleep under these Mississippi stars.
you’re still the only one.
and sometimes I think of how awesome it would be if..
still a “hopeless romantic”…just with a better head.
OKAY… since when do they play Explosions in the Sky on the weather channel!!?!??!?!?!