and when i think about you now, i don't know how i'm supposed to feel.
it just doesn't make any sense. and this whole time, i swear i've said that phrase fifty different times to four different people. i don't understand. i just don't understand.
but i remember sleeping in your cold bed, the sheets were striped and now that i think of it, remind me of sheets in the cabinets at my dad's house.
and i remember the bottles on your dresser, and the really old hairties. they always fell out when i slept next to you, and only you. you had a hairbrush that belonged to a girl i probably never met. i still used it in the mornings.
and when i remember people, in general, i remember shades of light. i remember the brightness that filled up a room, or the dim smoky light that you squint your eyes through. and when i think of you, it's always sunrise. not like five-am, sun-just-came-up, sunrise. just like seven-am,when-the-dew-is-still-on-the-grass sunrise. like sun piercing the curtains and your eyelids. the perfect waking up. almost as good as waking up to the smell of bacon or french toast.
i think writing this is as close as i'll ever get to closure, because i can't bring myself to believe that all the stupid cute shit was nothing more than lies to get what you wanted. the phone calls in the morning, and the crazy hours and hours and hours we spent together even though you weren't sleeping with me then. but when i ranted about this to johnathon, he said "well, that's what i thought i had to do to get you too."
and in a way, i want to believe that it's some crazy defense mechanism, that you're just doing this because it's easier and you're 1500 miles away now, but when hamy was rubbing it in my face yesterday ('i just can't stop crying' 'why?' 'bob. i've just never been that close to someone and lost them' or some bullshit like that), i realized that that's probably not true. see also, 'i taught that kid everything he knew. i raised him from a nerd to bob johnson.' well, no fucking wonder.
i might write about you later, like at a way later date, to tell of details of things that have been swimming around in my head, but instead i'd rather write of other, more meaningful things.
p.s. in regards to an earlier post, okay, god, you won. this is what i get for being a jackass, huh?
it just doesn't make any sense. and this whole time, i swear i've said that phrase fifty different times to four different people. i don't understand. i just don't understand.
but i remember sleeping in your cold bed, the sheets were striped and now that i think of it, remind me of sheets in the cabinets at my dad's house.
and i remember the bottles on your dresser, and the really old hairties. they always fell out when i slept next to you, and only you. you had a hairbrush that belonged to a girl i probably never met. i still used it in the mornings.
and when i remember people, in general, i remember shades of light. i remember the brightness that filled up a room, or the dim smoky light that you squint your eyes through. and when i think of you, it's always sunrise. not like five-am, sun-just-came-up, sunrise. just like seven-am,when-the-dew-is-still-on-the-grass sunrise. like sun piercing the curtains and your eyelids. the perfect waking up. almost as good as waking up to the smell of bacon or french toast.
i think writing this is as close as i'll ever get to closure, because i can't bring myself to believe that all the stupid cute shit was nothing more than lies to get what you wanted. the phone calls in the morning, and the crazy hours and hours and hours we spent together even though you weren't sleeping with me then. but when i ranted about this to johnathon, he said "well, that's what i thought i had to do to get you too."
and in a way, i want to believe that it's some crazy defense mechanism, that you're just doing this because it's easier and you're 1500 miles away now, but when hamy was rubbing it in my face yesterday ('i just can't stop crying' 'why?' 'bob. i've just never been that close to someone and lost them' or some bullshit like that), i realized that that's probably not true. see also, 'i taught that kid everything he knew. i raised him from a nerd to bob johnson.' well, no fucking wonder.
i might write about you later, like at a way later date, to tell of details of things that have been swimming around in my head, but instead i'd rather write of other, more meaningful things.
p.s. in regards to an earlier post, okay, god, you won. this is what i get for being a jackass, huh?
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