i have a sequin for an eye

21 Dec

pick a rose, and hide my face….

man, I love Interpol. But that wasn’t what I was going to write about, hang on-

Basically, I fucked up. I messed up badly. I should not have done what I did, and now I’ll have to suffer the consequences (without a convenient Wilco lyric to guide my way). You know that feeling when you know you’ve just said/done something that will change everything? Well, that was me last night, heartbeat racing. I didn’t know what I was getting into- I am rather naïve about those things- I am really just a small child at heart.

But still. People ask me why I keep coming back after I’ve been hurt, and I really don’t have an answer- I guess I forgive easily, or something. My closest friends don’t treat me very well, to look at us just hanging out, but really, they know what makes me tick better than I do. I seem to be the universal punching-bag, but I don’t mind- hell, if it makes people realize I exist, I don’t care what you do to me, how you humiliate me, how hard you punch. It’s actually made me a better person.

but still. There are times when I have to give up. and I might just have to, Tweed, I might just, even though, dammit, four years have come and gone and I am too stubborn to admit it, too stubborn to finally let myself realize that we have basically nothing in common.

Nothing in common, that is, besides music, guitars, love of paris, and Fauberge.

That’s not a lot, I guess.


You don’t really realize these things until you actually write them out.


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