slow-hand.

But, baby, my heart's been breaking lately. 

I feel so distraught sometimes, it gets to become a problem far too often. It's been weeks, and I swear I would give anything to go back to the easy going state we once had. But the toll has already settled and there's nothing else that drives my mind more than aggressive disdain. No one really understands how I am, and I know that may sound so overbearing, but it's the simple and fucking truth. Everyone deals with things different, everyone knows that  fucking much--but no one really comprehends the way you lose yourself in something that encompasses more than just the physical senses; the delirium you feel when it's within reach and its delicate presence; or that constant state of daydreaming that slowly, but measurably, takes over you. Like, how the fuck is anyone suppose to know how exactly and precisely I feel? It's fucking impossible.

There's only so much that people can sympathize with until it becomes a genuine sentiment that only your own conscious can acknowledge. It's difficult to say the least, and I feel like I've been here far too many times to not know what's in store. This is the moment when you forget everything you ever fucking told me, and when you step backwards into something you're only too familiar with. I understand though, I get it. You're too much of fucking stubborn piece of shit to give up what you've already had and exhausted. I was a fool to ever assume someone the likes of you would ever mirror a socio-economical power structure, and that just means I'm even more upset that you took up more than half my thoughts during that lesson in philosophy.

 I can't believe this is honestly what you have for me. I've been so torn by the reality of it, nothing quite comforts me. It's obvious to everyone, and to my very self, just how much of myself I had invested in you. I was so fascinated by everything that had to do with you, and it's honestly not fair how hard I cheated myself. I mean, I knew what I was entitled to since the beginning of anything, and I was completely fine with that. I guess it was mildly endearing that you could even be interested in me considering who I am. But I know myself far too well to ever come to an absolute contentment, and thus, I was caught. I liked feeding off the bits of you that you hesitated so many times to share. Those were the times I truly enjoyed, because it meant more than just casual chat talk, it was actual communication. I suppose that's what kills me now -- that I can't just talk to you as freely and openly as I use to.

I should've seen this coming though. You asked me one day that if things didn't really end up so nice and if we ever ran into each other, would I avoid you and not talk to you? I knew that's what was going on with you and her, and I can faintly remember the anxiety that lodged in the back of my mind when I answered that I wouldn't avoid you, that I would talk to you without remorse or dispute. That answer was so terribly wrong though, I couldn't possibly face you knowing that all you did was use my friendship as a safety net for your petty form of individual redemption. " The best of friends, " you've got to be fucking bullshitting me, right? Who the fuck could ever believe that fucking load of blasphemy? You were always fond of your stupid white lies, and it doesn't pain me now to call you a liar now that you've wronged me in the worst possible way. I don't understand how this happens to me, y'know? It's like I can't ever get anything right. People confuse me now, because they always behave in a way that doesn't really make sense most of the time. But this is me, and you obviously didn't like who I am. I don't plan on changing too many things about myself, because I am happy of who I am. That's not to say that I don't feel resentment toward your ill form of choices. Quite frankly, you don't have the slightest clue on what the fuck you're missing out on. I've never met someone like me, and who fucking cares if that's conceited? I really don't give a fuck, ha. But finally, garbage is garbage and rocks are rocks. 

I never showed you the song that makes me think about you. It's called "Narc." I don't think you could ever fathom how many times I have listened to this song with the very image of you seared in my mind. It's going to take time before you don't exist on this track anymore.

" If I get there early, will it be the right time? "
i was a fool, i was a fool, i was a fool.

i use to be a fool.