5/2/07

Life used to be lifelike
Now it’s more like showbiz
I wake up in the night and I
Don’t know where the bathroom is
Don’t know what town I’m in
Or the sky that I’m under
And I wake up in the darkness
Don’t have the will anymore to wonder
Everyone has a skeleton
And a closet to keep it in
And you’re mine
Every song has a “you”
A “you” that the singer sings to
And you’re it this time
Baby you’re it this time

-Ani Difranco

–

It’s my 21st birthday.

–

One wonders what exactly I have to show for it.

–

A new bottle of 18 year old Glenlivet that’s supposed to last me a year until my next birthday. A six pack of beer that I bought all by my very self.

–

A boyfriend who I professed my love for last weekend. And the response?

“I’m so sorry.”

He told me he knew how much courage it took for me to say those words, and how much he appreciated my honesty. He says he knows that when you know you love someone, it becomes a part of you that you can’t deny.

–

He told me not to say it anymore, because I’m probably not going to get the response I want. He told me it’ll start to drive me crazy, and that I should just put it from my mind.

–

It’s really not fair. Every time I think I’ve pinned something, someone down with my finger, I always end up being wrong. Part of me wants to scream, to fall down to my knees and give up. To shout at the gods in the rain and ask them what the hell it is I’m supposed to be doing.

–

But the rest of me is remaining silent. The rest of me is relying on that pesky little thing called fate, and faith hand-in-hand.

–

But part of me still wants to scream though. I want to grab him by the shoulders, transfer how I feel for him, make him understand. Part of me wants to just start shouting and making a fuss, and not stop until I’m forcefully dragged off and drugged.

Part of me sits and wonders if I’m going to get my heart broken again. I mean, things like this are often the kiss of death for a relationship. He said to give him time to think about it, and he promised he would.

What happens when he decides his answer is no? I mean, that’s it. I love him, he doesn’t love me, and I’m the one who gets hurt. And there’s fuck all I can do about it at this point.

–

Honestly, he’s someone I could see myself growing old with. He’s someone I could see myself getting married to, having children with, starting the revolution with. Traveling, and moving different places, and sharing different cultures.

But if he decides his answer is no, that’s it for me.

–

I don’t think I could take another broken heart. I really don’t.

–

So I’m just here waiting for the jury to reconvene. If the verdict is yes, then life can go on being wonderful and I can tiptoe amongst the clouds. If the verdict is no…

–

Then I don’t know what.