It was never my intention to get my thoughts stuck on anybody. If it were up to me, I would listen to sad music, drink, and stare out of my window at the mountains. I'd be fine reading William Carlos Williams alone without care or affection. I'd be irresponsible and happy with that. I don't mess anybody up that way.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to grow up yet. I'm drinking to the bottom of bottles, trying to get away from any sort of possibilities. Possibilities are debilitating. Sadness is comforting. My four walls, those white blinds, the light setting on the hospital. These are my reality now. Not your maybes and almosts.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to grow up yet. I'm drinking to the bottom of bottles, trying to get away from any sort of possibilities. Possibilities are debilitating. Sadness is comforting. My four walls, those white blinds, the light setting on the hospital. These are my reality now. Not your maybes and almosts.
No comments:
Post a Comment