my escape
i saw an incovenient truth tonight. it was a good movie, but i got so fucking irritated. i ended up paying for five people, and i wouldn't have minded if not for the fact that two of those people left early, waste of my money. it would have been worth it if they had stayed and learned something, but they didn't. and my mom asked me questions during the movie, do not ever fucking interrupt me in the middle of a good documentary, i will either beat the flying fuck out of you or desperately want to. i remember watching fahrenheit 9/11 and someone asked me the stupidest fucking question in the world while my eyes were glued to the screen and i swear to verra i wanted to slug em. no one interrupted me during hotel rwanda, that at least went smoothly. well, not "smoothly," but.yeah. except it wasn't as much a documentary. beside the point.
rawr. usually when i am that far angered i want an outlet, like badminton. except i can't very well go play badminton at 11 pm, when it is not only late but i have no one to go with. and i'm tired. i'm tired i'm tired.
i'm tired of reading you and trying to see you. i'm tired of knowing you, is there such thing? i'm tired of the grief you bring me. pain and sorrow and anguish? that's nothing. nothing. but you, you're something else.
like a fucking weight. how did you ever.
i can't, i can't. all it is is the same tired shit. same. tired. shit. over and over again. did you ever think? you think now, but you couldn't before. or is it that you did before, but you don't now? ah, sweet verra. how am i even here.
it's like he's an escape from you. something else. someone different. something completely and utterly different, on an entirely opposite end of the spectrum. it's work, for him. and it never was for you. it could have been effortless. GOD DAMMIT. for you, and you, and you. i should do that thing where you talk about people but you never say who they are. ever, ever. yeah, i'll do that. here we go, four guys, plus more people if they come to mind:
number one. who's number one? i can't even fucking decide on who i want to talk about first.
fuck.
number twenty, how's that. yeah okay, we'll start with twenty and work backwards up to nineteen? fuck me, i don't know shit. what i want, what you want, what the goddamn world wants. no, i do know the world wants. how bout some peace and quiet. this is totally not my writing style. or is it. metacognition. koontz. oh, yeah, it's definitely not.
i'll start with you, of course. it was never even a question.
i have nothing to say to you anymore. i have given it all to you. all. to. you. i wonder if you read this. if perhaps you ever found it. if you ever bothered. no, you wouldn't have. it is far too much beneath you. you never gave me the time of day then, why now?
why indeed.
it's all there, it's all for you, you just have to find it.
you might never find it and that's--
is that okay? it isn't, actually. but what can i do about it? i'm certainly not going to tell you to look for it.
it's something that i can't help you with.
and.
ugh.
please, please don't do what i'm afraid you might do.
can't you see? can't you see through it, like i do?
can't you see what i see?
then we have..my escape. naive. innocent. vulnerable.
and i'm so afraid, so fucking afraid to hurt you.
but realistically, i know it's..
it's not even right. i mean, this isn't the way it's supposed to be.
it's never been like this, not once for me.
and i want to just enjoy the moment. live for the now.
because the idea of--
however you want to reword it, i don't know, that's just too much.
can we not think about that, just not yet?
i know i'm not the one for you. i want you to find someone better. some day.
i guess i should tell you that. so you know. just. so.
it's so difficult. i can't understand it.
i don't know.
as an outsider, i would laugh at us.
we're trying too hard, can't you see? but you don't even know.
the perfect boyfriend.
is there such a thing as too perfect? because i think perhaps that's who you were.
absolutely everything was so damn effortless. always able to talk. fun. funny. fun to be around. strong. tall. and i wish i could have felt for you what it was you felt for me.
then we have my history, my history, and my past.
it was never enough.
enough, to hold you to the brightest of lights, to place you dangerously close to that sun.
i'm so sorry, that i couldn't feel more.
may your life be fruitful and your dreams everlasting, and may you find that someone who will love you for who you are and everything more.
and the kid, the guy who--what do i even call you? the craziest kick of my life? hoy, i don't know. but i remember walking into that classroom and you were sitting there and i thought, Fuck. it could kill me, i'm sure. something that i'll never fully let go of.
that's two.
in my history, someone i was never too sure about, always questioned, questioned me, made me think, made me smile, made me DOUBT. because everything you said i never accepted. every word you breathed i never believed. every smile every glance every ghost of a chance, you were only pretending to be me.
rawr. usually when i am that far angered i want an outlet, like badminton. except i can't very well go play badminton at 11 pm, when it is not only late but i have no one to go with. and i'm tired. i'm tired i'm tired.
i'm tired of reading you and trying to see you. i'm tired of knowing you, is there such thing? i'm tired of the grief you bring me. pain and sorrow and anguish? that's nothing. nothing. but you, you're something else.
like a fucking weight. how did you ever.
i can't, i can't. all it is is the same tired shit. same. tired. shit. over and over again. did you ever think? you think now, but you couldn't before. or is it that you did before, but you don't now? ah, sweet verra. how am i even here.
it's like he's an escape from you. something else. someone different. something completely and utterly different, on an entirely opposite end of the spectrum. it's work, for him. and it never was for you. it could have been effortless. GOD DAMMIT. for you, and you, and you. i should do that thing where you talk about people but you never say who they are. ever, ever. yeah, i'll do that. here we go, four guys, plus more people if they come to mind:
number one. who's number one? i can't even fucking decide on who i want to talk about first.
fuck.
number twenty, how's that. yeah okay, we'll start with twenty and work backwards up to nineteen? fuck me, i don't know shit. what i want, what you want, what the goddamn world wants. no, i do know the world wants. how bout some peace and quiet. this is totally not my writing style. or is it. metacognition. koontz. oh, yeah, it's definitely not.
i'll start with you, of course. it was never even a question.
i have nothing to say to you anymore. i have given it all to you. all. to. you. i wonder if you read this. if perhaps you ever found it. if you ever bothered. no, you wouldn't have. it is far too much beneath you. you never gave me the time of day then, why now?
why indeed.
it's all there, it's all for you, you just have to find it.
you might never find it and that's--
is that okay? it isn't, actually. but what can i do about it? i'm certainly not going to tell you to look for it.
it's something that i can't help you with.
and.
ugh.
please, please don't do what i'm afraid you might do.
can't you see? can't you see through it, like i do?
can't you see what i see?
then we have..my escape. naive. innocent. vulnerable.
and i'm so afraid, so fucking afraid to hurt you.
but realistically, i know it's..
it's not even right. i mean, this isn't the way it's supposed to be.
it's never been like this, not once for me.
and i want to just enjoy the moment. live for the now.
because the idea of--
however you want to reword it, i don't know, that's just too much.
can we not think about that, just not yet?
i know i'm not the one for you. i want you to find someone better. some day.
i guess i should tell you that. so you know. just. so.
it's so difficult. i can't understand it.
i don't know.
as an outsider, i would laugh at us.
we're trying too hard, can't you see? but you don't even know.
the perfect boyfriend.
is there such a thing as too perfect? because i think perhaps that's who you were.
absolutely everything was so damn effortless. always able to talk. fun. funny. fun to be around. strong. tall. and i wish i could have felt for you what it was you felt for me.
then we have my history, my history, and my past.
it was never enough.
enough, to hold you to the brightest of lights, to place you dangerously close to that sun.
i'm so sorry, that i couldn't feel more.
may your life be fruitful and your dreams everlasting, and may you find that someone who will love you for who you are and everything more.
and the kid, the guy who--what do i even call you? the craziest kick of my life? hoy, i don't know. but i remember walking into that classroom and you were sitting there and i thought, Fuck. it could kill me, i'm sure. something that i'll never fully let go of.
that's two.
in my history, someone i was never too sure about, always questioned, questioned me, made me think, made me smile, made me DOUBT. because everything you said i never accepted. every word you breathed i never believed. every smile every glance every ghost of a chance, you were only pretending to be me.
coming from a caroliine @ 01:06
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