Squirt
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2000
- Messages
- 2,899
so scattered about my desk is a stapler, a roll of scotch tape (naturally), an old can of cherry coke, a copy of the script, pictures of our rehearsals that will go to our yearbook, a picture of me with my mom, one of me with my dad, and one of my mom and dad together in italy. not to mention the random bank statements, credit card receipts, and empty parliament lights boxes.
on my wall there are various picture of me with friends, a ticket stub from the paul mccartney concert on may 13, 2002, a few ticket stubs from shows i saw with my mom in new york at the end of last summer, thank-you cards from actors i've worked with, a scottish flag, a poster from the little prince, a shrine of pictures to this past summer, and a picture of crow and me.
i'm looking at all this stuff - and that's what it really is. it's just stuff, and it doesn't mean shit. then i realize there's no trace of you on my wall or my desk. for as important as you've been to me for two years, you're nowhere to be found. now why do you think that is?
what the hell happened to us? i really wanted to tell you about my life. i wanted to tell you about the call i got from the doctor last fall. i wanted to tell you about the problems i was having when i was in london. i wanted to tell you how much i fucking want to be in your life, somehow or another. i know you feel it, too. i can tell in the softness of your voice when you talk to me, and i can see it in your choice of words when you write me. you know we're kindred spirits, and you know where the brick wall between us came from...
you're just too scared to jump over it.
dammit i need another cigarette.
i have a bottle of rum in front of me, and i'm so tempted to swig on it, but it's too fucking late. it's always too late. why is it that my biological clock is set about 3 hours after everyone else's? in some cases it's more - in yours, it's set about 3 years too late. you've leapt ahead of me and the dust you've left in your place has turned to craggy boulders made of razor-sharp glass that has torn the shit out of my feet, no matter how lightly i tread.
so what do i do? i stop to take care of myself, to heal my wounds, but you keep getting farther ahead and away from me. no matter how fast i run, or how thick my soles are, your trail still hurts. i fell once, and the glass pierced my chest, and my heart spilled out onto the rocks. it was like putting a hard-boiled egg in a food processor - it was so torn to shreds so small that i couldn't even recognize it anymore. i ended up trampling on them while i was scrambling around trying to put it back together.
could you please put my heart back together? you told me you wanted to buy me a nice black dress, then take me out and make me feel like a princess....
"and now it seems that i have found / nothing at all / wanna hear your voice out loud / slow it down slow it down / without it all / i'm choking on nothing / it's clear in my head / i'm screaming for something / knowing nothing is better than knowing it all / on my own" ('on my own' - the used)
goddamn i miss you.........
i should smoke another cigarette, change out of this dress, and lie down......
on my wall there are various picture of me with friends, a ticket stub from the paul mccartney concert on may 13, 2002, a few ticket stubs from shows i saw with my mom in new york at the end of last summer, thank-you cards from actors i've worked with, a scottish flag, a poster from the little prince, a shrine of pictures to this past summer, and a picture of crow and me.
i'm looking at all this stuff - and that's what it really is. it's just stuff, and it doesn't mean shit. then i realize there's no trace of you on my wall or my desk. for as important as you've been to me for two years, you're nowhere to be found. now why do you think that is?
what the hell happened to us? i really wanted to tell you about my life. i wanted to tell you about the call i got from the doctor last fall. i wanted to tell you about the problems i was having when i was in london. i wanted to tell you how much i fucking want to be in your life, somehow or another. i know you feel it, too. i can tell in the softness of your voice when you talk to me, and i can see it in your choice of words when you write me. you know we're kindred spirits, and you know where the brick wall between us came from...
you're just too scared to jump over it.
dammit i need another cigarette.
i have a bottle of rum in front of me, and i'm so tempted to swig on it, but it's too fucking late. it's always too late. why is it that my biological clock is set about 3 hours after everyone else's? in some cases it's more - in yours, it's set about 3 years too late. you've leapt ahead of me and the dust you've left in your place has turned to craggy boulders made of razor-sharp glass that has torn the shit out of my feet, no matter how lightly i tread.
so what do i do? i stop to take care of myself, to heal my wounds, but you keep getting farther ahead and away from me. no matter how fast i run, or how thick my soles are, your trail still hurts. i fell once, and the glass pierced my chest, and my heart spilled out onto the rocks. it was like putting a hard-boiled egg in a food processor - it was so torn to shreds so small that i couldn't even recognize it anymore. i ended up trampling on them while i was scrambling around trying to put it back together.
could you please put my heart back together? you told me you wanted to buy me a nice black dress, then take me out and make me feel like a princess....
"and now it seems that i have found / nothing at all / wanna hear your voice out loud / slow it down slow it down / without it all / i'm choking on nothing / it's clear in my head / i'm screaming for something / knowing nothing is better than knowing it all / on my own" ('on my own' - the used)
goddamn i miss you.........
i should smoke another cigarette, change out of this dress, and lie down......
