this years love had better last, heaven knows it's high time, i've been waiting, on my own, too long

there are the kind of secrets that bind us, that create trust, love, from which real friendships form, and then there are the kind of secrets that tear us apart, that in their dishonesty breed distrust, to the point that we forget what was good and what was of worth.

and i was willing to wash my hands of it. to deal with the consequences. i believe i was willing to give up what i was protecting. i thought, i actually thought, maybe, maybe it was worth it, you were worth it.

"you had to have known this was going to happen. or did you think it would end differently?"

you had to have known, she kept saying. i had to have known. it was just, i hoped it'd be different this time. i guess i should've gone into it differently. i never think. i just have this habit of leaping.

at this age, you have to ask questions, at this age, you can't just go with the flow because that's when people get hurt because at this age, everything matters. there's just not enough time, like before, when we were younger. because if we're not getting somewhere, then we're just wasting time now.

i'd hate to say it was a waste of time. i'd hate to say it that way. i wish there'd been a different ending. but it never would've worked. because it was dishonest.

and was i really willing to give up what i had?



but on another note. she said, the crazy stays. that's just what happens to us when we have something on the line, when we have something to lose. and the thing is, we're just supposed to find someone who'll love us, for the crazy and all.

I have this thing, within the first 5 minutes of speaking with someone, I usually make the decision on whether it's ever going to work out. And by working out, I mean something real. Within the first 5 minutes, I usually semi-subconsciously admit what I end up realizing. And oftentimes, even when, I know things won't work in the long run, I can't help wanting to figure him out anyway. Because I don't get him, because I don't get his lingo, because his taste in music makes me wonder about the kind of person he is, because he's admittedly polite, because of the life he used to live, because.....well, you know, all the reasons why you make these efforts to pursue something at the hopes of maybe proving yourself wrong.


But I've never been wrong.





I remember, it was your birthday that weekend, and I should've showed up. He called me up, told me to come out, they were celebrating your birthday, and I made up a lame excuse because I didn't want to be around you. It's for the birds, you used to say, and you barely knew what the fuck it meant. You were my kind of person, I used to think.