It’s late here,
im selling my car
im listening to sad country songs by cracker
im missing you.
I dont know if you are even awake, let alone
missing me too.
I guess it really doesnt matter does it?
life is about memories, and scar stories, and ive got more of the latter
my skin looks bad, i dont know if its the cold weather,
but im alone,
it’s not as bad as i thought it would be, im usually alone these days
(well, in my head, theres always someone around following me like a lost puppy, and i dont know why, im not unique. Nobody really is. We build upon that which has come before us, but we use the same words, the same senses, the same tools, the same feelings, the same everything. And we call it original. Its not. Its as generic as modern pop art, or the Sarsaparilla festival. Nothing new has ever been created, it has only been re-invented, adapted, expanded, just as love has been.
My love for you, was not created, it was enhanced, and now its lingering, and will for the rest of my life. Ill always wonder what if… but it doesnt matter, cause what if has already been answered. Here is what happened when…. and here i am. Its 2am, and your someplace else. My arms are empty, my mind is barely awake, and im stuck here thinking of you. As the world keeps on spinning, I hope i dont dream of you. I need my sleep, and my pillow needs a rest too.