|
| I didnt mean it that way. I didnt watch Catch me if you can only to envision it this way. Thank you, all four of you kind strangers for letting me be mostly silent. I'm sorry I couldnt be that sorry today. I'm down to my last few and I meant to smoke them with the parliaments i just bought. Thank you Brian for waiting for me, you didnt have to, and I hate Big Macs, but thank you. God, let's write this one off, not because I'm ashamed or unable to digest all the lessons that Job did, but because even you know, this wasn't some vicious, biting, lesson learning type of thing. This was a delayed fullstop. This was letting sue win. I feel good today. I feel absolution.
| | |
| you dirty mustached you. I cant sleep because of you. I cant sleep because I see your face fucking everywhere in grass, in windows, in my sheets. I am so tired of this projection of lonliness and smoke rings and late nights. I love your fucking ugly face with every freckle and scar and You are the only person I ever felt completely okay with. You are the only person I tried loving without giving any bit of myself away. I've been handing out samples of soul since the day you left my bed without asking me for anything. do you know that. do you know that I cant find a You in a sea of upper education faggots. I cant find a You in a sea of ottawa knockoffs. I cant find a You in a warehouse of homeschooled boys with architechture magazines. Just stop. i get sad and i think of you. or I think of you and I get sad. either way, just fucking stop.
the iciing on the fucking cake.
every year, i get better fucking looking, and you get stranger fucking looking and i still love you all the fucking same, if i can even say this is what that is.
| | |
| I am so sorry for everything i am, and even more so for Everthing i`m not. IF there's anything i can be proud of, i try. sometimes too late. mostly too late, and then we get the early mornings of silence and forgotten ramen bowls. I am ready to leave Calgary again. I spent 4 months falling in love with nothing. I spent 4 months learning how to gamble and how to speak in glances with my father. I spent 4 months waiting for something to happen. Nothing happens here, nothing happens there either. We are all fragments and little bits and when the light hits a particular way, We become golden, but when the light hits off, we lay sullen and grey and I have forgotten all the honest conversations ive had with honest people. Sometimes i feel like there are no parts of me left for myself. I am terrified i have nothing left to share. I thought I could start in Montreal witha blank slate, but that is faulty reasoning. I took a full year to slowly erase every little bit of myself that i still recognize. I think I'm nearly all gone now.
| | |
| home is the place to grow the fuck up. the problem. we are always back to the grind. i am incapable of falling in love. anywhere. everywhere. i dont know if im ready to try again if this is trying. you wont love me because life has already fucked you over once and you have little time left to spare. maybe im not worth sparing. why wont you let me leave you and hurt you and makeout with you in server rooms. i am tired of joking about arson. i am ready for the real thing.
i think about montreal and its endless nights, the dawns where you can creep back home feeling okay and oddly flattered by the homeless poplation that decides to hoot as you walk by. i am aching for aching legs. and its too late, when i realize how much im lying and how little i realize it still. i look forward to elsewhere because i can never seem to make it in the present. the present isnt friendly to me and ive used up all excuses. i dont wish to be god so i have no idea why i am constantly confronted as if i was. a little faith out side a latino church last sunday with sue would be a good remedy. i dont wish for ignorance, i wish for complacency, i wish for sexy lines outside a club instead of the wretching taste of vomit, i wish for fast blinking instead of exhaustion sleep. how do i make this better if i'm on a loop pedal. i have yet to learn to ride a bicycle and thsi terrifies me.
| | |
| got me self a tumblr
need to start and finish my ling assignement.
need to sleep
fucking hate rez.
fucking hate st. patricks day
hotboxed my closet
cantwait till this weekend and shooting film in old montreal with priya
bed now.
tumblr is "gay".
tell me what you think.
| | |
|
