god damn

some cheesy bullshit lyrics i pumped out while at reception today.

what a fuckin' john mayer ballad, jesus.

"napping just to pass the time.
oh, remember back when we had things to do,
places to go, people to see?

fast forward or just rewind,
either way's a better day than sitting here and wishing who
i was would come back to me.

i'm not me
when i'm without you.
can't you see
i care about you?

oh, bring me back to the days when i could hold your hand in mine
and know, no matter what, that things would turn out fine, and i say,
hey, if you feel like i do, then say so and i'll come to you.
there's nothing i'd like more than to see this through."

tricks are for kids

and i really don't have time for games,
but it doesn't mean i wanna grow up
any more than i ever did.

i'd like to be young forever,
but if growing older means that i can stop breaking my nails,
i suppose i'd be fine with that too.

purple nail polish doesn't suit adults,
but if i call it violet, can i please be excused?
i'd like to leave the table now.

four legs in the kitchen and none of them are mine,
folded neatly under me like a knitted bundle in a wicker basket.
the table top seemed a lot higher back then.

i think the measure of how old you really are
is when you can no longer cross your legs like you did in kindergarten,
waiting to hear the stories that you no longer believe in.

i think the measure of how young you ever were
is when something ends and you never really cared when you were young,
but now it makes you cry like you really are a child.

i remember drawing profiles at the dining room table,
over and over because back then quantity was better than quality,
and the quality was always good enough anyway.

there was no such thing as imperfection back then.
everything was the best it could be, just the way it was.
and then i got older.

i know that wine and wood get better with age,
but i'm starting to believe that it's not the same with people.
and i am aging still.

tree removal

i got an antique chair from work today.

i want an apartment in the city already,
and a cat and sooo many veggies in my fridge.

wooden floors and exposed brick,
a balcony with a view of the stars in the city,
and a bedroom with little lights hanging above the bed.

and everything would be old and loved and perfect.

i like shopping for furniture.

i'm going to start a garden.

the truth

so maybe i got a little bit ahead of myself,
but i'm just so far behind in everything else
that sometimes it feels like it's now or never.
i just wanna be alone together,
and you - you don't want a damn thing
and that's nothing for me to get upset about,
but i am, and fuck you and fuck this and fuck me
because it's all i'm good for anyway.

i am a little bit of everything
and not enough of anything
to be worth more than nothing
to you.

...

thoughts like this are starting to feel less and less like bleak angst and more and more like the truth, after all.

my first real date, i guess

19 years old:

we got frappes at a hippie cafe and walked along the lakeshore to a lighthouse
and met the cutest puppy and watched the neatest birds
and a plane flew right over us from far away.

we climbed over rocks and talked about driftwood
and art and a little bit of everything, really.

it was short, but good.

i wanna see you.