pretend
just for a minute. lets just pretend like everything we did meant something at all. Just for a second lets think of the days where our smiles weren’t as fake as the pictures on our walls. Just for a moment lets stop and lets listen to the music we played in your car for that day, the last hour that we spent together in peace, singing along the melody of our good bye. Lets go back and remember how those kisses felt, the very first time i kissed your lips, not knowing she kissed them hours before i did. Lets go back and pretend that anything we did meant something at all, because i’m not convinced.
rambling.
so i’m just a machine, made up of all the pieces that everyone else has put me together with. Just a strange and fictional character put on this world to entertain and be the black hole for everyone else’s problems. We dont even know why we do it. Mess with each other that is, we just do. Constantly talking down to one another trying to get a rise out of each other for some simple pleasure. A guilty pleasure perhaps. Maybe it’s just that we’re so sick of ourselves, so critical of our own beings that we have to talk down to one another to make ourselves feel like someone special. It’s this feeling you get when you know you’ve gotten to someone else, that tiny part of you thats actually happy that you put the other person down. wWho am i to tell anyone they’re wrong? who are they to tell me i’m wrong? where did we get these concrete definitions of what’s wrong or right? it’s as if there’s this crazy parallel universe that i stand between, constantly fighting the voices from the other world that remind me of who i am and my only purpose in life….
