Post by spastic bard on Apr 24, 2008 18:22:31 GMT -5
... Honestly, I never planned on posting this. Its old. Its horribly depressing, and it shows how highschool drama just blows up into something so much larger than it really is. I find it interesting that I was able to capture a much more immature part of my life. So regardless of how dramatic and emo this little story is, it means a lot to me. It isn't really fiction persay... Its based off of a real time and a real person.
Besides, there are some things and some people you never really get over, you know? And it explains why I like emo music...
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It’s in these moments lacking conversation, with music playing mindlessly that we say the most to each other.
You’re drumming the beats on the steering wheel, I’m carelessly mouthing the lyrics. Lines of regret and sadness I can’t relate to; all of these songs are from your perspective after all.
Too bad it isn’t really your perspective at all. Just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean you’re pining over a pretty girl who just wants to be friends. Or maybe you are. Regardless, that pretty girl who just wants to be friends isn’t me. I’m the average girl who wants to be more than that. Funny how that works, huh?
Every so often I glance over in your direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of something that tells me where this is going. You keep your eyes on the road, still drumming the beats and carelessly singing along. Your eyes never meet mine. Not once. That should be all the answer I need.
But its not that easy. Every so often you break the silence and say something out of character. Despite the heavy weight that settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe, I want nothing more then to reach out and slap you. Part of me wants to grab you; shake you; and scream how unfair it is that you say something so strange and keep that little spark of hope alive against all odds. It would be kinder to kill it. Yet I don’t move. I just sit there, maybe smile a little, and cradle that heavy weight and continue to place faith in that spark.
It’s funny how your mind can scream the right answer at the top of its lungs, but your heart will block it out with the denial of a child. Its even funnier how I’m aware of it, and yet still my mind screams and my heart ignores. Its so funny its disgusting. You make me hate myself, which just seems wrong on some intangible level. No one should have that ability, especially someone I’d rip my own heart out for.
That may seem graphic, but its basically how things stand right now. Every moment with you feels like I’m slowing digging a knife around my chest, cutting through blood, tissue, valves and bone. And I take it an inch further for every moment of silence passes between us; every moment of silence; every lack of sound you make, besides singing, makes me want to die a little more. How can something that is supposed to be so beautiful be so destructive?
A new song starts. I sing along with you and the music. We find a comfortable harmony somewhere between my soprano and your bass. Its another song about heartbreak, the wrong time, and the wrong person. Maybe the lyrics are from my perspective after all.
Besides, there are some things and some people you never really get over, you know? And it explains why I like emo music...
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It’s in these moments lacking conversation, with music playing mindlessly that we say the most to each other.
You’re drumming the beats on the steering wheel, I’m carelessly mouthing the lyrics. Lines of regret and sadness I can’t relate to; all of these songs are from your perspective after all.
Too bad it isn’t really your perspective at all. Just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean you’re pining over a pretty girl who just wants to be friends. Or maybe you are. Regardless, that pretty girl who just wants to be friends isn’t me. I’m the average girl who wants to be more than that. Funny how that works, huh?
Every so often I glance over in your direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of something that tells me where this is going. You keep your eyes on the road, still drumming the beats and carelessly singing along. Your eyes never meet mine. Not once. That should be all the answer I need.
But its not that easy. Every so often you break the silence and say something out of character. Despite the heavy weight that settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe, I want nothing more then to reach out and slap you. Part of me wants to grab you; shake you; and scream how unfair it is that you say something so strange and keep that little spark of hope alive against all odds. It would be kinder to kill it. Yet I don’t move. I just sit there, maybe smile a little, and cradle that heavy weight and continue to place faith in that spark.
It’s funny how your mind can scream the right answer at the top of its lungs, but your heart will block it out with the denial of a child. Its even funnier how I’m aware of it, and yet still my mind screams and my heart ignores. Its so funny its disgusting. You make me hate myself, which just seems wrong on some intangible level. No one should have that ability, especially someone I’d rip my own heart out for.
That may seem graphic, but its basically how things stand right now. Every moment with you feels like I’m slowing digging a knife around my chest, cutting through blood, tissue, valves and bone. And I take it an inch further for every moment of silence passes between us; every moment of silence; every lack of sound you make, besides singing, makes me want to die a little more. How can something that is supposed to be so beautiful be so destructive?
A new song starts. I sing along with you and the music. We find a comfortable harmony somewhere between my soprano and your bass. Its another song about heartbreak, the wrong time, and the wrong person. Maybe the lyrics are from my perspective after all.