play, pause, resume, repeat.

Play.

Rereading lines I've written, I see a lonely kid who kept walking into empty rooms. But at the time I thought I could work them. I was in control of everything, I told the sun when to set, the sky opened up for me. But being on top means nothing if you've got no one underneath you...(and you wonder why we don't have sex anymore). Words are my friends, but all they seem to do lately is make me enemies. But, then again, no matter how many enemies these words make, listening to them in a song makes them feel anonymous. Like I'm not trying to destroy you, like I'm not guiding this missile straight into your room. My words make enemies, my songs make friends. The problem is they're the same thing. I'm a creative wreck. I sit in my room and color the windows and paint the walls with my eyes closed the whole time. Opening them only reminds me of you, and you're something I'd rather never remember. But I'm attracted to you. Because you bring out my wreck, you're my bad side. I'm attracted to creative people and train wrecks and there's no shortage of them here. I'm writing gospel for all the primadonnas to primp their hair to and all the brutals (spell it right) to take pictures in mirrors to. I'm up, you're down. You're black, I'm white. You're winter, I'm summer. And I'm so schizo that it just goes to show you why I think you're beautiful when you cry. But then there's a part of me that hates you when you cry. Robert Smith said boysdon'tcry, I say adults don't either. There's a part of me that feels a million miles away. Today I'm that far ahead, tomorrow I'll be farther behind. There's a part of me that's like 'yeah, we could get married' but some parts have trouble spending tonight with you.

Pause.

Last year's wishes (are so '05 anyway) are this year's comedic relief. I am soul and you have so over so(u)l(e)d, you're welcome. In short, this is a long goodbye to an unexpecting, ultra deserving you. Sometimes the lines I write are about you, most times they're about who I wish you were. They once said that you learn something new everyday. You seem to forget more and more every time. You've got the fundamentals down, just not the talent. In true fashion, I accidentally deleted everything that followed this and now have to start all over.

Resume.

It probably saved our relationship though. Because I was not being nice. I was not being generous, I could have been. But then again I could spend all night apologizing for things I believe in, I could be you. The summer is coming. It's a tremendous rebirth. It's a fresh start. It's time to get rid of all your baggage. To work out the kinks. To turn the "k's" into "g's" and call yourself a king. I'd call myself cocky, but I won't let you. I set up double standards on purpose. I didn't look you in the eye today, well at least not on purpose, because you don't deserve to see inside my head. Because you have no idea what my dreams could show you. I'd like to disappear, but I'd like for you to more. It must have hurt what pride you've got left that I compared you to someone you despise so much. It must have hurt your heart when I told you that you sounded like someone you're still in love with. This is the parental advisory version of my true feelings. Some parts of me, however small they most certainly are, care about your mental health right now. But only for selfish reasons. Only because I can't let your downers bring me down. By the time you read this I'll be on a charter bus further away from you then I ever was, even now. The hardest part isn't finding out who we need to be, it's being content with who we are and I'm nothing more than fraud. I deliver honestly, covered in sugar coated doldrums. I have no better way to end this then to sign off for the last time again. And to let you know that you are nothing more than a telephone call away from being forgotten about tomorrow and that you are nothing less than the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with. Got it?

Now press repeat. (But never, ever stop)