to find out how to make peace with your days, in the dungeon? writing a letter to you didn’t make me feel any more peaceful than how i felt when we weren’t speaking because i didn’t cope to what i did, i can’t love you because we’re supposed to have professional boundaries; i like you to be schooled and in awe, as thought you were kissed by god full on the lips.

slid into the ditch, i have this overwhelming loss of ambition, we said let’s name 30 good reasons why we shouldn’t be together: i started by saying things like you smoke, you live in new jersey you started saying things like you belong to the world all of which could’ve been easily refuted, but the conversation was hypothetical; i am totally short of breath for you, why can’t you shut your stuff off?

for a while while i’m speaking, you know how much you hate to be interrupted and maybe spend some time alone; feel up your proverbial cup so that i doesn’t always have to be about you; i’ve been wanting your undivided attention i like the fact that you’re nothing like me; are you not burdened by the lack of perspective people have of your charmed life seemingly?

and i’m not mad at you guardian, i’m mad at myself for spending so much time with you and your jeckyll-and-hyde-ness, i’m glad i figuratively slapped you on the wrist, you laughed a wicked laugh and said come here let me clip your wings (i know he’s blood but you can still turn him away you don’t owe him anything) raise the roof he yelled, yeah raise the roof i yelled back! (unfortunately i needed a health scare to reprioritize) no thanks to the soap box, having me rile against them won’t make an ounce of difference.

alanis · front row · supposed former infatuation junkie