sweetheart,

i plotted out a story in black and white about how we would be. it started out as simply a moment, a great one, and then we braided together and knotted at the end to make it an actual end. and that was that. the big details were omitted and the little ones like my shoes and opaque black tights were included but it never fails that, no matter how many times this story is told, we'll end up the same way. sometimes stories are good, great reminders of what ifs and possibilities, but they can be disheartening too. i what ifed us so many times that when i wake up from my dreamy stupor i am nowhere and i have no idea how to get back. sometimes, i am glad to be nowhere.

and then there are the possibilities and what ifs of stories long past, so long ago that you cringe when brought up and yet they are still there. these aren't stories we made up, or that i made up, but moments and tales of long gone that, while reading my bundle of xangas and livejournals, i feel the need to revisit. the "where did i go astray?" questions are gone and replaced simply with "huh" and general discomfort.

we look so good.
and you couldn't help but agree with a big toothy smile.

and that was that.








currently listening to: the killers--goodnight, travel well
(yes, i know)