The days drive by and the hours sink and I’m left thinking of what was and now no longer even in my grasp. They aren’t throwing the past away, they say they are building on top of it. I say they are pouring cement over their childish hand marks. What does it matter?
But look in my head and see what I think and tell me it’s clearer than I know. Tell me she just didn’t like me- tell me she never thinks of me- tell me he just was evil- tell me I’m just stupid- tell me its just a big blank page.
Tell me, and I’ll survive another day for it- and perpetual will my life be of believing in what isn’t I’ll have built myself a high castle and dance into the night with nobody but the girls in the dreams I forget the mornings come. And I’ll live for it. And on this beautiful girl who I want so badly to tear into will exist and it won’t really be her at some point and it’ll be a person who maybe existed for some speck of time years before in a confused mind.