Do you know what depression really is? Hopefulness: possible in the physical universe we currently occupy, and how nice would it be? There you have it. That’s rock bottom, ladies and gents. And it’s only fitting, because the zenith was long ago. Your high life has been and gone. Soon, someone will take even this from you. What’s left then? Total oblivion. Welcome home, abandon hope, all who enter here.
What is with you lately. I had expectations. You had the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you came through for us all. Everyone knows your name, even if they have to think about it for a minute. You made something of yourself. You made something out of nothing. Now you flounder and fumble. I had expectations for you.
I’ve always been fascinated by how substances have a clear cause and effect relationship with the body. Everything I take is about clarity of purpose. Focus, speed, and clarity of mind; these are my intended effects.
I’ve been watching you. You look for that disconnect. You want to dull what you feel. There you are at the top of the world, and you want to shut out everthing. Here I am; only better than rock bottom, and I want it all. I need to see anything and everything. I want it. I’ll see you soon. Sooner than you hoped.
I can admit that we have it hard. Distance definetly makes us difficult. You’re worth, or at least we’ve promised each other that we’re worth it. You carve out some time for me periodically. I carve out sometime when someone isn’t spewing my name with vitriol. The worst feeling is knowing when we are ships passing in the night. Knowing that when I have time for you is not when you have time for me. It would be easier if I really thought you were trying to spite me. But you aren’t. I don’t even enter into it.
I light my last cigarette. I almost confuse the tobacco for smooth and palatable, almost. Even so, I can feel it hit my bloodstream, and the effect is what it always was. One of the girls sells me another pack. That’s where you left me. Tobacco isn’t questioned;it’s catered. Where in the civilized world can you even smoke, let alone buy a pack from a girl wearing almost nothing? Right where you left me; that’s where. I had it all; a nice, neat little empire and questionable woman. I had aspirations and plans to match. That woman of yours; I met her right here. She tried to sell me menthols. I never held that against her, but that was when she was my woman. You left me for dead, and thought that you took everything from me. Maybe you did, but you gave me another shot. You stacked my deck, I’m older and wiser. I know the ins and outs, my name still holds sway, my clout still carries sway. I’ll be on top faster, I’ll be back sooner, and you won’t believe how strong I’ll come at you. I’ll even have a new cigarette girl to dangle in front of you.
Your love is not the sunshine that Led Zepplin talked about. Your love isn’t even an aphrodisiac. Your love turns reality on it’s head. See, you can fool me into feeling better about everything. You’re dangerous. If I have you, what can trouble me?
Her dad’s a banker. His mom’s an accountant. His dad’s a drunk. Her mom’s a junkie. The only thing more important than your job is what substance you abuse. I’ve done a couple jobs. People ask me, that’s what I tell em’. My job. But I’ve always thought of myself as more than my job. I’ve never defined myself by job. Priests, politicians, and other crusaders; that’s fine. But I’m more than my shit job. I want to be more than my shit job. My family. Myself. My day. My hobbies. My belief. That’s what makes me, not some corporate prospectus.
I loved you. I still do, but I don’t love us. I’m just done. I’ve given and given, and it has been for naught. My adoration has fallen on deaf ears. The worst part is that I don’t really want to hurt you. I mean, I’m done neglecting myself for your sake. But I’m not looking to make you suffer. It seemed like you wanted me to suffer, sometimes. I thought the world of you, and would have done anything for you. But sometimes, it felt like you really wanted to exact a price, your pound of flesh. Whether you did or not is irrelevant. I don’t want that. We’re done, and it will hurt less now than in another minute.
I hate that we didn’t work. I wish we did. God, I wish we did work. I’m sorry for the things I did, but more for the things I didn’t. I’ll never forgive myself. I’d give anything if you asked it. Maybe you did and I just didn’t hear it. I don’t know, but I do care. I fell in love with you, and I’m sorry I haven’t shown you that in a long time.
We are patchworks. We are on whole piece at the very beginning. Everyday after that; we are patchworks. Little pieces of other people sew themselves into the tapestry of our lives. Some people are small pieces; they are here and gone. They are short lessons. Other people are big enough that they feel like we aren’t anything without them. When they leave, it feels like the whole tapestry is coming down. This is the thing though. You can hope that no one sees your tears through the rain, but you are different after them. No matter how we try to fool ourselves; we’ve been changed. It’s not their fault, and it isn’t our fault. It’s just the way of the world, it just is how it is. It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to mad as hell. Whatever it is, feel it; now take this patch for that hole in yourself.