I refuse to be denied the beauty of a voice. Though my true feelings typically scramble out in some sort of hieroglyphic scratch or automated key-prints-my voice begs for use in empowerment and passion.
I told you the truth.
It would be easy for me to say I haven't been lying to myself, or more literally, burying YOU in multiple late nights of drinking and discussion. It would be prudent and socially beneficial to pine in your loss-but I just kept telling myself there was more to this world.
Somehow society understood that, too.
And by society,I mean the amateur alcoholic I shared beautiful evenings and awkward daylight hours with. He thought it would all be okay, too.
That's a lie.
He was planning our downfall and self-sabotage from the moment I gave you up.
It's funny how some people finally get what they want-and are still unhappy.
It's funny how I'm not excluded from the generalization.
All the nights. All the phone calls-the yelling, the tears, the pleading, and the tiny kisses before which I promised each was the last.
You. Were. Right.
Does that help?
You were right all along. I did need you. I did love you.
I still do.
And now you can look at me and say it's all over.
That you're happy. And the truth is-
I'm afraid you're right.
These ramblings, when reflected upon, often look like the diary of some misfit teenager-searching for her clique in the high school cafeteria.
The great news is: I'm an adult.
Still rambling. Still searching for my spot in life-with you or on my own.
And the forecast has proclaimed these fits of hysteria are only bound to progress and expand with age and accumulating responsibility.
Better pack the umbrella today.
I'm not likely to dance in the rain.
Unless you're ready to listen to these droplets of confession.
And understand their beauty.
Ting. Ting. Ting.
On the window.
It won't be enough to drown out my voice.
You can race the streams of Heaven water down the glass.
They'll all end up on the ground.
And I will too.
I can only hope one of us will perpetuate a further forecast.
And chances are slim.
Tomorrow looks cloudy...
