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| baby, you know someday you'll slow. | | |
| chas thinks i'm seeing what i want to, not what really is.
i assume i'm being used.
but isn't just the same...i mean, am i capable of using my lover for my own devices? to feel wanted? to feel good at something? to feel like it's finally going to be over [the chase, the run-around, the wait]? is it true that i just want him because it's easiest?
i think this holds no truth. i want him: to take care of him, to love him, to look at him, to be looked at by him, to not burden or smother him, to love him.
that is all. | | |
| yup. so you find yourself hearing words that bring the best comfort, comfort you've been wanting for the past 3 years. and you also hear the soft voice of a promise, a promise meant to be kept and not to be taken lightly. and he whispers "don't give up...please" two different voices. two different offerings. conor oberst says: it is typical
to cling to memories you'll never get back again
and to sort through old photographs of a summer long ago
or a friend that you used to know
and there, below his frozen face
you wrote the name and that ancient date there are decisions you don't make. and there just some things you can't fake. and i am bursting waiting to know what will happen. because i don't want to give up. i don't want to give up, my darling boy. but you are a boy. such a young boy. and he's the apparition of what used to be the epitome of all i've ever wanted and i see him in you. i see him in you, i don't think i can escape. but you know i love you. you know i do. don't forget that.
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| i never realized i stopped thinking 3 years ago. just stopped. and look at the mess i made. and yet i think i see his reflection in a lover. i don't know what that means. it is what it is. | | |
| well, at the request, of a dear friend, i'm starting this up again. i honestly don't know what to write about, it's been so long for me to open up and do a blog like this. dominique says it's only for attention and she said that's how she felt i was when i was on here. but sometimes we criticize people without thinking that it hurts them. i think she thinks she helps...and she does and she has a beautiful heart, but i just feel attacked every now and again, that's all nothing major, i'm sure she feels the same from me from time to time. i suppose we're even.
so i've already written a big chunk and i don't know what to say. how about some more vague ideas, to be reminiscent.
i've heard very beautiful, delicate and sad things lately. "
like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me." thank you, conor.
but i know of someone even more soft and heartbreaking. an enigma.
my days are painted with the "shoulds" and "donts" they are stacking up now.
i can't believe my mind has it all figured out a thousand times in a thousand different scenarios all pointing in a cingular directions.
and G-d. well, i know He is no figment.
i am useless, you know.
and i am lost to any other. no one will have me like you do, no one will have me only you.
i wish i weren't so obvious.
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