10.08.2001 || 19h36

Happy fucking thanksgiving

You know, people have lovers with whom they are not in love. They see them every day or twice a week and secretly covet other women, other men. They don't know what they have. They *do* know what they have, but fell out of love years ago. They never wanted what they got. They thought it would be different. Trapped, tired, out of love.

Where the *fuck* is it written that, surrounded by such people, I should be reduced to a weekend of utter happiness surrounded by weeks of wanting? I love someone. More every time I see her, in fact. This time, I walked back inside, closed by bedroom door, and cried until my head was pounding and my eyes red and swollen. My boys swirled around my hands and lap, mewling and purring, but I felt no better. They miss her too.

Why can't we be together? What the *hell* does a country mean? What is a border? Why can't I wake up to that compelling, fantastic girl's face every single day of every single month of the next ten thousand years?

When will I be able to wake up, roll over to her and say 'As of to-day, Love, life is fair.'?



||Gods save the Queen,
||cf

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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