Baby Is This Love For Real? [Hold Me In Your Arms, To Feel...]/
Wake.
I slid out of my egyptian cotton sheets,
and glided out the door.
A blink later, I was standing at my coffee maker,
scooping frozen coffee grounds into my old, all knowing filter.
1/2 a pot later,
and as I was squeezing the last of my creamer out of it's crushed, pathetic contianer,
I scooped up a handful of granola,
and floated up the stairs,
and perched myself at my virtual addiction.
hours flew by,
aparently some guy in pheonix wants my 17 year old ass,
and i'm standing at my mirror.
gazing at my naked, shivering body,
wondering what's wrong.
what did i do?
what would i have to do?
I stepped into the scolding harsh reality of the morning,
and attempt to cleanse myself of the last night's misadventures.
with every scrub,
with with every cut,
it released overwhelming waves of love, lust and despair.
the deeper, the closer i came to myself.
the harder, the more became alive.
with every beat, with every,
"You, you don't want anything to do with me,
You, you don't know what to do to me..."
I became closer to myself.
I woke up.
I became alive.

I stood there,
in front of the mirror again,
on the scale,
looking at my bones stick out of my body,
looking at my dropping weight.

When will i be skinny enough?
When will I be good enough?
When will i have enough money?
When will i be what you want?
When will you relaize we're meant for eachother,
and if you do, will it be in time?
I don't want to move on,
but please, don't make me.
because i might.
accidentally or not.
someone might come along.
and then what will we do?

I know you love me.
I just hope you figure it out in time.
For the both of us.

...i mean, i do move to Denver in December.
And it'll be a long year.
Especially if i'm alone.

especially if you're alone.

God, i'm drunk.
But honest.

Aparentally There's A Lot That Can Be Wrong With You.
Matty B.