I Want You Back
cry me a river...
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Any normal woman in her mid-thirties would not have this problem, I'm sure.
I'm messed up... as messed up as they come, anyway. Instead of using the phone and demanding a rehash, or walking over and at least acknowledging that what I sometimes say at night may well have some bearing during my days, I do nothing. I don't call, I don't even write about what's been bothering me, until now.
And really, what's been bothering me has bothered me so for decades, so I'll just bottle it all up soon, slap a brand new cork on a vintage bottle, then shove it back into that cool, dark place.
My sister thinks I'm crazy for liking him. And I am crazy, in that wash-rinse-repeat kinda way. I could be brave enough to call, and if he was attracted to me in that same way, I could, perhaps take those first steps towards something different, something new. But I know I'd fuck it all up with past history and my habit of neverforgettting, and then blow another relatively decent thing outta the water. Been there, done that.
Ah, I don't want to grow up old and bitter, but today's just bleak as all hell. I could point a finger and blame, blame, blame, but damnit, past is past, or at least, it should be. So, instead, I'll put on a happy face, and after I'm relieved of my babysitting duties, I'll bundle up Kole and go for a nice, long, walk downtown. I'll pack a flashlight and some spare change in my backpack, along with a few books, some paper and pens for the both of us. I've got my girl all trained for these moments. She doesn't mind spending hours in a coffee shop, while we draw, read and write. I'll drink hot coffee to sooth my soul and hide my wounds inbetween games of Go Fish and Snap.
A toast to the sadness of January, a month that usually has me writhing, while I try to quit smoking and drinking and eating fatty foods, hiding my sorrows and pains in anything that brings instant pleasure. While I come down from a land of living in excess, I'll either continue to wallow, or slowly light another cigarette, pour another beer, or order another Big Mac.
Pffft. Happy New Year, indeed.
I'm messed up... as messed up as they come, anyway. Instead of using the phone and demanding a rehash, or walking over and at least acknowledging that what I sometimes say at night may well have some bearing during my days, I do nothing. I don't call, I don't even write about what's been bothering me, until now.
And really, what's been bothering me has bothered me so for decades, so I'll just bottle it all up soon, slap a brand new cork on a vintage bottle, then shove it back into that cool, dark place.
My sister thinks I'm crazy for liking him. And I am crazy, in that wash-rinse-repeat kinda way. I could be brave enough to call, and if he was attracted to me in that same way, I could, perhaps take those first steps towards something different, something new. But I know I'd fuck it all up with past history and my habit of neverforgettting, and then blow another relatively decent thing outta the water. Been there, done that.
Ah, I don't want to grow up old and bitter, but today's just bleak as all hell. I could point a finger and blame, blame, blame, but damnit, past is past, or at least, it should be. So, instead, I'll put on a happy face, and after I'm relieved of my babysitting duties, I'll bundle up Kole and go for a nice, long, walk downtown. I'll pack a flashlight and some spare change in my backpack, along with a few books, some paper and pens for the both of us. I've got my girl all trained for these moments. She doesn't mind spending hours in a coffee shop, while we draw, read and write. I'll drink hot coffee to sooth my soul and hide my wounds inbetween games of Go Fish and Snap.
A toast to the sadness of January, a month that usually has me writhing, while I try to quit smoking and drinking and eating fatty foods, hiding my sorrows and pains in anything that brings instant pleasure. While I come down from a land of living in excess, I'll either continue to wallow, or slowly light another cigarette, pour another beer, or order another Big Mac.
Pffft. Happy New Year, indeed.
