Royals

I've never seen a diamond in the flesh. I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies. And I'm not proud of my address in the torn up town, no post code envy. My friends and I, we've cracked the code. We count our dollars on the train to the party. And everyone who knows us knows that we're fine with this; we didn't come from money. But every song's like gold teeth, grey goose, trippin' in the bathroom. Blood stains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room. We don't care; we're driving cadillacs in our dreams. But everybody's like crystal, Maybach, diamonds on your time piece, jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash. We don't care; we aren't caught up in your love affair. And we'll never be royals, it don't run in our blood. That kind of lux just ain't for us; we crave a different kind of buzz. Let me be your ruler. You can call me Queen Bee. And baby, I'll rule, I'll rule. Let me live that fantasy. We're bigger than we ever dreamed and I'm in love with being queen. Life is game without a care; we aren't caught up in your love affair.

Delusion, Scott

"I think that today was just about having today. And I think we are one of those couples with a long story when people ask how we found each other. I will see (him) every now and then, and then maybe one year (he'll) be will somebody and the next year I'll be with somebody, and it's gonna take a long time. And then it's perfect. I'm in no rush."

At Least Not For Me

"Though sympathy can't alter facts, it can make them more bearable."

It bothers me when I read through your current stuff. The "We should hang, unless you don't want to," the "fucked up" shit, all of that stuff that brands you as a loser. And yet...

What an idiot I am. Here I am, thinking everything's all over and done with, and then I scroll through old pictures. Like an idiot. And I see you, smiling that fucking smile that I swear I would kill to see again. So innocently happy and content and the fact that I put it on your face made it even better. And then I see a picture of me on that day at the carnival and I sigh because it was so long ago and so far gone. I'm not saying I still like you. I mean, I have feelings for you but not how they were. It's more like I just want to know what you think of me, to know that you'll be who you were. I need closure. And then, I swear, I'll move on. Totally and completely. Because even now, knowing I don't love you like I used to, I still think about you every day. And that's okay I guess. But seeing that old picture made me miss you and even like you a little bit. But that's just it. I liked him. The boy in the picture. Not you now. And if there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that the 13 year old boy with the spiky hair, the blue ink covered hands, the shy smile, the innocence and insecurity that I so loved, is gone. And I just don't think he's coming back. Not anymore. At least not for me. 

Thirteen Reasons Why

It's not me, it's you. And here's why I've been able to come to terms with the fact that we are nothing, not friends or even acquaintances.

1. You're fearful. So am I, but I am traditional. You make the move. No exceptions.

2. You're ignorant. Oh, man. This could count for about five reasons. But you are. And it sickens me.

3. You're a brain-washed Catholic, and it makes you judgmental and very close-minded.

4. You're one of those homophobes who think God never planned them and they're an abomination. Nice theory.

5. You're so Republican that I get nauseous. But here's the funny thing: in a political debate, you could never hold your own. You only know what your father or friends have spewed back at you.

6. You're racist. To almost all cultures, but I've seen and heard what you and your family say about mine and, although people have made me self-conscious to admit being 25% Mexican, it's made me who I am. And helped get me a scholarship. So there.

7. You're misogynistic. Oh, how your sexism infuriates me. The "make me a sandwich" thing was about funny for five seconds for a group of thirteen year old boys. Grow up. I may be a Mexican woman, but in terms of knowledge, I could floor you. And I'm already far more successful than you, as a caucasian boy, will ever be. So what does that say, my friend?

8. Reasons 3-7 make you seem incredibly stupid in my eyes. And while in 8th grade your stupidity was merely in terms of schoolwork and I found it slightly endearing, I now find that you have used your stupidity to be a follower. That just doesn't fly.

9. Reasons 3-7 also make you far more immature than a boy your age should be. My other male friends laugh at stories of you, at your ignorance, and it makes me realize how far behind you are.

10. You're lazy. I don't know of a single situation where laziness is attractive.

11. You're becoming your family. I used to defend you or agree with my mom when she would say you were the one person in that fucked up family who had their head on straight. Now, I throw in the counter-argument. She's wrong. I was wrong. You are what you are. You are your father's son. 

12. When I see posts or messages that you've put out on the Internet, I actually have been disgusted and embarrassed. I imagine if we were still dating and I saw those things. I'd turn away. And maybe that's why I left you three (four?) times. Because I saw in you what I couldn't see when you left me. That you're everything I hate in our generation. That we couldn't ever work because you epitomize what irritates me! You're like the human version of the Fox News Network. I can't love that.

13. And lastly, this one actually makes me sad. When I wrote out numbers 1-13, I thought, "There's no way I can think of thirteen reasons. I used to love you. I used to dream of you every night, think of you every single day, want you, need you. There's no way I could think of thirteen things I hate. Five max." But I could. I didn't even have to take time to think about each one. In fact, the reasons sprang to my mind so fast I had to quickly jot them down so I wouldn't leave one out. I'm just upset that you turned into them. You were so good, so undeniably good. You had been beaten down and had a little coy smile and spiked out hair and were cute, but you had no idea. You were the insecure one. You thought it was crazy that I could ever like you. You were meek and still afraid of what the future holds and you were you. Now, you're a stranger and I don't like you. You're not even a stranger I would like to know. You're someone I walk past on the street, obnoxiously screaming with your friends, high on weed and drunk off of excessive amounts of alcohol, and I just think douchebag. I've learned to not feel good about your old promises. You never fulfill them. I hope someday you can come back. Not for me. But maybe for some nice girl who can turn you around. Who knows, maybe she'll be Catholic? And maybe you won't be embarrassed to bring her near your family. And maybe you won't duck and hide every time she comes around. And maybe you won't avoid her eye. And maybe you won't run away from her if you see her around town. And maybe you won't become your father and will love her and treat her right. But that's not where you're headed right now. And I hate it. I hate who you've become.

Depend Upon?

I, strange to say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms. For life be, after all, only a waitin' for somethin' else than what we're doin', and death be all that we can rightly depend on.

Thanks, Mom

"When I was younger, I told my mother, 'One day, I'm gonna make you proud.' Now that I'm older, it's so much harder to say those words out loud."

Why can't you just let me fucking be? I'm satisfied with myself when I don't give in to my gluttonous side. Mental problem? Really? I know what I look like naked. I know that I don't have a "perfect" body. So fuck you. You don't know anything. Nothing at all. It's not a mental problem that I can see that there are problems with my body, that it's gross and too muscular in some places, too skinny in others, and fucking fat in most. I know that my legs are short, my thighs large, my hips too wide, my stomach too soft, my arms too thin, my boobs too small. I know this. So don't tell me I have "a mental problem" and don't see myself correctly. You'll find yourself in the outside of my life. Again. Don't make me push you completely out of my life. I'll do it. Already I'm planning on not speaking to you for a while. At least for the day. It's 9 AM so you successfully ruined my morning without provocation. I walk inside after my calming morning ritual and I'm greeted by you telling me I have a mental problem, peanut butter and jelly is just as horrible for me as everything else, lean cuisine has tons of sodium, and I cost you a fortune. So my "chemically imbalanced" brain only heard a few things from that conversation: you said I have mental issues merely to hurt me, because if you thought it was totally true, you wouldn't say it to my face. Or would you? You would. Despicable. Also I'm stupid for thinking I can try to eat healthy and the one thing I like that is an indulgence calorie-wise (because I know PB&J has a lot of calories), but I thought was healthy, is also not good enough to eat. So you definitely didn't help there. You make me not want to eat anything especially those TWO DOLLAR LEAN CUISINES THAT COST YOU A FUCKING FORTUNE. God fucking damn. Do I ask for anything more than a cereal and low calorie food? No. Do I smoke pot in the bathroom and rely on my little sister to keep a secret? No. I pay for all of my own shit, even the things parents are supposed to provide or at least help out with. Like, oh I dont know, clothes, haircuts, underwear, to name a fucking few. So thanks for the pep talk, mom. You've successfully made me feel like a fat, unstable lump of shit. Thanks! I can always count on you to feel better about myself. Always. From the very beginnings of my youth you've helped to shape me into the insecure, quiet, self-conscious, angry, resentful, self-hating woman I am today. Three cheers for the best mom ever!

What It Was

We were young. We were never growing old, and the glitter was still gold, the way it used to be. It was love; it was easy just to smile. It was easy for a while, the way it used to be. Look at you, you've got the life and the pretty house. But you must still think about the way it used to be. Is it real? She doesn't love you like I do. Can we just go back to the way it used to be? Look at us, just look what we've become. Just a shell of what was once the way it used to be. Even stars they fade and colors turn to gray. I miss yesterday and the way it used to be. And I can't turn back time even if I tried. I miss you tonight and I miss the way it used to be.

Young

Thinking we don't want to get caught up in over-thinking; we've only got tonight. Moments, we gotta keep on living for these moments. Because this is our time. Life's too short to sit and wait for love to come our way. Light it up like fireworks; I wanna hear you say, "We are alive!" You know there's nothing wrong with taking chances. We put it on the line and, someday, I know we're gonna be somebody. Life's too short to sit and wait. And we have the light shining down. We are the reckless. You can hear us drowning out the sound. We are young and dumb, always chasing something. With hearts like drums, you can hear us coming.

Out Of Sight...

Everyday at twilight, when the sun turns red in the sky, I think of you on that shoreline, brushing the hair from your eyes. We were drawing out names in the wet sand and running away as the tide rolled in. Even if there is an ocean keeping your heart from mine, that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about you all the time. I'm counting the days till I see you and, somewhere, I know that you are too. We had the summertime of our lives; nothing has ever felt so right. And even though we had to say goodbye, I know, when the world gets warm, you'll come back to me. Wherever you are, no matter how far, I promise that I won't give up on you. They say out of sight means out of mind, but they couldn't be further from the truth. Because I'm in love with you. I'm still in love with you.

Till The End Of Time

Blue jeans, white shirt, walked into the room. You know, you made my eyes burn. It was like James Dean, for sure. You're so fresh to death and sick as cancer. You were sort of punk rock. I grew up on hip hop, but you fit me better than my favorite sweater. And I know that love is mean and love hurts, but I still remember that day we met in December. Big dreams, gangster, said you had to leave to start your life over. I was like, "No, please. Stay here. We don't need no money, we can make it all work." But he headed out on Sunday, said he'd come home Monday. I stayed up waiting, anticipating, and pacing. But he was chasing paper, "caught up in the game;" that was the last I heard. You went out every night and, baby, that's alright. I told you that no matter what you did I'd be by your side. Cause I will ride or die whether you fail or fly. Well, shit, at least you tried. But when you walked out that door, a piece of me died. I told you I wanted more, but that's not what I had in mind. I just want it like before. We were dancing all night, then they took you away, stole you out of my life. You just need to remember. I will love you till the end of time. I would wait a million years. Promise you'll remember that you're mine. Baby, can you see through the tears? Love you more than those bitches before. Say you'll remember, oh, please. Say you'll remember. I will love you till the end of time.

I Am Craving You

"I chase your love around a figure 8. I need you more than I can take. You promise forever and a day, and then you take it all away."

Why can't you want me like the other boys do? They stare at me while I stare at you. Why can't I keep you safe as my own? One moment I have you, the next you are gone. Rehearsed steps on an empty stage, that boy's got my heart in a silver cage. Why can't you want me like the other boys do? They stare at me while I crave you. I walked into the room, dripping in gold. A wave of heads did turn, or so I've been told. My heart broke when I saw you kept your gaze controlled. Oh, I cannot solve why you don't want me like the other boys do. Let's just stop and think, before I lose face. Surely I can't fall into a game of chase. Around his little finger that boy has got me curled. I try to reach out, but he's in his own world. This boy's got my head tied in knots with all his games. I simply want him more because he looks the other way. I am craving you.

Crowned

Go into the night, go until you're out of sight and you're out of my mind. Run when the rhythms right, go into the night. Floating as the river flows, easy as it goes to the ocean. So walk on by. I've got no reason to love you, but I do. I do. You're showing me colors of the sky, but all I see is gray. You lost me when you lied. Promise me but you never try. Secrets in your eyes. You go and run, I'll hide. I don't ever want to be crowned just another prize. Lost in the midnight blue shadows of the moon. I'm here with open arms for you, feeling something so new. Said with me you'd reach the sun, but we were so young. Love me until the summer's done, but keep me in your heart so I hold on. Shook me to the ground and somehow I feel like you don't know me. Brought me to a life that you never showed me, coming from a locked up ghost of yourself. But you're coming from the light. There's more to you then you ever thought there was.

It's Not So Hard

Every time you go, it starts with a picture and it sits in your frame. And we part with a letter, and it ends it my name. And it starts with forever and it ends with a touch. And I know that you're clever and I don't ask for much. Maybe we forgot all the things we are together. You said I'm arresting. You said I had heat. I really thought that we'd go further the second time we meet. Now I'm tired of trying to keep you; all I want to do is sleep. And perhaps, when I'm sleeping, you'll get back on your feet. Wake me up, stop my fall, every time you go. Tape me up then break me up, ever so gently. When I'm at my weakest, it's not so hard every time you go. I run a mount to meet you, when I knew a storm had come. I felt the rain on your face and the damage you had done. I know what you're thinking, it will never be the end. And when the storm is over, you won't see me again. I didn't know the price I paid for all the times I stayed when we were together. It's not so hard. Maybe we forgot; are we awake or not? It's not so hard every time you go.

Hey, Uncle Buck

"I don't know why we need boys. They're so loud."

"We need boys so they can grow up, get married, and become shadows."

To The Moon And Back

Back when all my little goals seemed so important, every pot of gold filled and full of distortion. Heaven was a place still in space, not in motion. But soon. We went walking through the hills, trying to pretend that we both know. Maybe if we save up we can build a little home. But then the hell storm came and yelled, "You need to let go; you've got no control." No. This weight's too much alone. Some days I can't hold it all; you take it on for me. When tomorrow's too much, I'll carry it all. I've got you. I got you, I got everything. I don't need anything more than you. I've got everything because I've got you.

I Release You, Goodbye

Years ago, I felt this. Stupid girl. Hahahahahahaha. I'm insane.

I'm feeling your thunder, the storm's getting closer. This rain is like fire and my world's going under. And I can't remember the reason that you cut off the line. You're on moving, you say. Here I stay; I'll take this pain. I can. What about "love?" What about our promises? You take it all and leave me nothing. What about us "til the end?" You cut my wings, now I'm falling. Why are you colder than winter? You're switching the picture. You used to be perfect. Please help me remember the reason that you said goodbye.

Totally Fine

"I'm sure we'll stay friends. We just never got the timing right. I shot him down and then he did the same to me. But, you know what, it's ok. I am totally fine. Everything is gonna be totally...I'm sorry. What was the question?

"Reject a woman and she will never let it go. One of the many defects of their kind. Also weak arms." Thanks, Dwight.

Separate

Said goodbye, turned around and you were gone. Faded into the setting sun, slipped away. But I won't cry because I know I'll never be lonely, for you are the stars to me. You are the light I follow. I can hear those echoes in the wind at night, calling me back in time, back to you. In a place far away, where the water meets the sky; the thought of it makes me smile. You are my tomorrow. Sometimes I feel my heart is breaking, but I stay strong and I hold on because I know I'll see you again. This is not where it ends. I will carry you with me, until I see you again. 

Any Other Name

They mentioned you yesterday, all on their own, without any instigation on my part. And the crazy thing, no, the amazing thing, is I didn't even want them to keep going. I responded and then we moved on to another topic, without me even thinking twice about it until now. I had totally forgotten, and not brooded over it for hours before bed. I'm very proud. Just last year you were all I wanted, and now you're a mere stranger. Wiped clean.

Anti-Social

I don't want to be on today. I don't want to give hugs and force smiles and accept cards with excessive gratitude. I don't want to leave my sanctuary and talk to people who irritate me. I don't want to talk to you and pretend your jokes are funny. I want to stay in my room the whole time, which is "socially unacceptable," and emerge when it's dark and dinner time and most of the guests are gone. I want to wear sweats. I just don't care. I want to watch about ten episodes of The Office. And read. And whatever.

Drowned

I like to imagine that, if there is a god, he is mercilful in our last moments. Especially in the most violent deaths. If he can do anything at all, can control the tides and the skies and the very sunrise, why could he not take away all traces of pain, obliterate every nerve ending? If a little girl has been stabbed by a captor, I hope she's shot an incredible dosage of celestial morphine and feels a serene bliss. If a soldier is shot in the abdomen and is slowly bleeding out, I hope he only feels the ground he lies on, and only remembers the smile of his lover or the laugh of his first born child. I hope the drowned child doesn't feel the incredible bursting of their lungs or the weight of the water crushing them or the insane need for oxygen. I hope the incinerated firefighter doesn't feel the scorching heat or the scalding of his flesh. I pray the shark attack victim doesn't feel the hundreds of razor-sharp teeth piercing his skin. I think about this sometimes when I hear of a murder or death or see one on TV. How could someone face death with dignity with that fear, that bone-chilling fear, of pain? And then I have a hope, perhaps a foolish one, that those on their death-bed from a painful wound or horrifying experience simply lose consciousness. Before their nerves can register the physical pain and bodily harm done to them, their brain shuts it all down. Like flipping the power switch on a circuit, a switch that controls every aspect of a machine. And I like to think that just like that the soul goes. Maybe the body remains animated for a few more moments, but the essence is gone, and so is the pain. I imagine that if you feel that incredible pain from a gun shot or a knife wound, then it means you will recover. The pain means you feel something, which means you will survive. That would be so amazingly comforting. But I don't know. And I suppose I never will. Until the very end. 

Regressions

How many times do I have to try to tell you that I'm sorry for the things I've done? But when I start to try to tell you, that's when you have to tell me, "Hey, this kind of trouble's only just begun." I tell myself too many times, "Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut?" That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words that keep on falling from your mouth. Tell me why. I may be mad, I may be blind, I may be viciously unkind, but I can still read what you're thinking. And I've heard it said too many times, that'd you'd be better off besides. Why can't you see this boat is sinking? Let's go down to the water's edge and we can cast away those doubts. Some things are better left unsaid, but they still turn me inside out. This is the book I never read; these are the words I never said. This is the path I'll never tread; these are the dreams I'll dream instead. This is the joy that's seldom spread; these are the tears, the tears we shed. This is the fear, this is the dread, these are the contents of my head. And these are the years that we have spent. And this is what they represent, and this is how I feel. Do you know how I feel? Because I don't think you know how I feel. You don't know what I feel.

I Love You. I'll Wait For You. Come Back. Come Back To Me.

High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to live. Fight fear for the selfish pain; it was worth it every time. Hold still, right before we crash, because we both know how this ends. A clock ticks until it breaks your glass and I drown in you again. Because you are the piece of me I wish I didn't need. Chasing relentlessly, I still fight and I don't know why. If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity? Walk on through a red parade and refuse to make amends. It cuts deep through our ground and makes us forget all common sense. Don't speak as I try to leave because we both know what we'll choose. If you pull then I'll push too deep and I'll fall right back to you. Why are you my clarity? Why are you remedy?

I Will Always Remember You

This night the woman of his belittling deprecations was thinking how great and good her husband was. But over them both there hung a deeper shade than the shade which Angel Clare perceived, namely, the shade of his own limitations. With all his attempted independence of judgement this advanced and well-meaning young man, a sample product of the last five and twenty years, was yet the slave to custom and conventionality when surprised back into his early teachings. No prophet has told him, and he was not prophet enough to tell himself, that essentially this young wife of his was as deserving of the praise of King Lemuel as any other woman endowed with the same dislike of evil, her moral value having to be reckoned not by achievement but by tendency. Moreover, the figure near at hand suffers on such occasion, because it shows up its sorriness without shade; while vague figures afar off are honored, in that their distance makes artistic virtues of their stains. In considering what Tess was not, he overlooked what she was, and forgot that the defective can be more than the entire.

Yet it was in that vale that her sorrow had taken shape, and she did not love it as formerly. Beauty to her, as to all who have felt, lay not in the thing, but in what the thing symbolized.

But the moment that she moved again he recognized her. The effect upon her old lover was electric, far stronger than the effect of his presence upon her. His fire, the tumultuous ring of his eloquence, seemed to go out of him. His lip struggled and trembled under the words that lay upon it; but deliver them it could not as long as she faced him. His eyes, after their first glance upon her face, hung confusedly in every other direction but hers, but came back in a desperate leap every few seconds. This paralysis lasted, however, but a short time; for Tess's energies returned with the atrophy of his, and she walked as fast as she was able past the barn and onward. 

Thus Begins The Grieving

Behold, when thy face is made bare, he that loved thee shall hate;

Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate.

For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be shed as the rain;

And the veil of thine head shall be grief, and the crown shall be pain.

That day he began to pack up and she went upstairs and began to pack also. Both knew that it was in their two minds that they might part the next morning forever, despite the gloss of assuaging conjectures thrown over their proceeding because they were of the sort to whom any parting which has an air of finality is a torture. He knew, and she knew, that, though the fascination which each had exercised over the other (on her part independently of accomplishments) would probably in the first days of their separation be even more potent than ever, time must attenuate that effect; the practical arguments against accepting her as a housemate might pronounce themselves more strongly in the boreal light of a remoter view. Moreover, when two people are once parted, have abandoned a common domicile and a common environment, new growths insensibly bud upward to each vacated place; unforeseen accidents hinder intentions, and old plans are forgotten.

Foolish Devotion

Her affection for him was now the breath and life of Tess's being; it enveloped her as a photosphere, irradiated her into forgetfulness of her past sorrows, keeping back the gloomy spectres that would persist in their attempts to touch her - doubt, fear, moodiness, care shame. She knew that they were waiting like wolves just outside the circumscribing light, but she had long spells of power to keep them in hungry subjection there. A spiritual forgetfulness coexisted with an intellectual remembrance. She walked in brightness, but she knew that in the background those shapes of darkness were always spread. They might be receding, or they might be approaching, one or the other, a little every day.

When they were all in bed, and the light was out, Marian whispered across to her, "You will think of us when you be his wife, Tess, and of how we told you that we loved him, and how we tried not to hate you, and did not hate you, and could not hate you, because you were his choice, and we never hoped to be chosen by him."