Remember when everyone you knew was really emo and wrote in a livejournal all the time? (Was that just me?) Well whatever – I logged into mine for the first time in literally forever and I was going back through old things and I found this post that is SO emo and apathetic, but I literally have no memory of what or who it was about. Crazy.
Are all of the apathetic teenage years going to fade like that?
none of it is anything you would like, and it’s not even that good, it’s probably just normal. but it’s all kind of music like when you’re home, like when my ipod plays. it’s sort of like that time when we almost fell asleep to that movie, and when you ignored all of those calls for hours to stay right where we are. it’s almost when we stayed up in bed until 3, but pretended to be asleep since 1. kinda it could be that time when you were so upset you didn’t even try to do that thing where you’d grab my knee so i’d hold your hand, and then you finished that water bottle of vodka, except happier and less awkward.
maybe it should be that laugh you do, the one you don’t use anymore, or that smirk you get when i’m outrageous and it makes you feel less overwhelmed, that one you haven’t shown in five weeks. it would be nice if it was like your hand on my back, the spot where it arches, or when your eyes are blue and young. i don’t think they were just green because of your shirt. it shouldn’t be that thing you do, when you press your temples and say, “fuck, it’s wild out there,” but maybe it’s like that hug I want to give you when you shake your head and say “i’m fucking crazy.” it’s like when you tighten your arms around me after realizing that maybe i’m real and not just neutral the way you say you’ve started to feel about everything else.
it shouldn’t be but it’s like when you know how someone’s going to die and you can’t do anything about it. like a terminal illness. like a terrible deadly habit, like smoking or drinking or drugs. sometimes it sinks into that lump i get in my throat that i know you have too when it’s silent and you’re thinking about years ago and where you ended up – it shows. it always shows.
it’s like getting worried at a distance, which could be the worst type, even when its the most safe.
sometimes it would be nice if it was like when you picked me up (around my knees, so quickly that I screamed) and told me, “don’t worry, i’m coming home soon.” except maybe you’re not even home yet – it doesn’t look like your home yet, like when we would lay in bed mornings to afternoons just because you missed your bed. it’s not like that because you’re not home and you’re still freaking out and the purple under your eyes is getting deeper and deeper and you keep getting farther and farther away, even sometimes when we’re in the same room, but then sometimes you’re like right there. like right. there.
it’d be cool if you came back soon, the way you were.