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my best friend is going to be engaged soon. i would love for her boyfriend to tell me when it’s going to happen, so i can figure out my living situation. but he’s pretty afraid i’ll tell her.
i will.
i just don’t really keep secrets. i guess it’s a flaw. i mean like a butt chin or being too emotional. but what makes you different makes you beautiful? right.
probably the most intriguing thing about me is that talk about my family, friends, and loves over the internet. i guess i don’t really care about privacy. or about other people knowing everything about me. i guess because it doesn’t matter.
i don’t really care… but i’ll tell you what: i think it’s very sexy if you can keep a secret.
keep up the good work.
untitled film.
I once knew a girl. In the years of my youth. With eyes like the summer all beauty and truth. In the morning I fled, left a note and it read: Someday you will be loved.
what’s you’re name, alyssa? can i tell you something? you won’t take this as a pick up line. i mean it just as a compliment. your eyes are crazy. like strangely beautiful.
thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say.
ha. i go and get take out, and i see the coolest looking eyes i’ll ever see in my whole life. thank you.
Do you think I’m pretty?
You know what I think.
No. I don’t.
I think you look like your sister and your sister is beautiful.
Is that a cop out? Cuz if you think I’m pretty you can tell me.
you know I think your pretty.
But beautiful like my sister?
No not that pretty.
Maybe it’s like i didn’t say no, cause i kinda wanted you to not try.
that’s not fair to put on me. i’m a guy and you’re pretty.
yeah, and now you’re just like everyone else.
How many times are you gonna lie to me? I always figure it out. Stop lying to me. Would you rather a friend who stuck around because she was ignorant. Or one who knew what was going on and still cared about you anyway?
I’d want you to know, i guess… I’m getting better! But its hard. I’m trying for you. for you I am.
it’s like i’ve been testing everyone… and everyone has failed. the problem is, they just get mad, like my tests are unfair. they might be. the thing i always liked about him is that he understood how he failed, and so he never yelled at me for holding him to a standard that wasn’t real. he just kept on being a dick. he was honest about his slight as the man of my dreams. it kind of made him become that.
You’re gonna find a girl who loved you no matter what and you’re gonna not love her back because you just won’t respect her for loving you.
That’s not true.
You don’t respect me.
I respect you more than you think.
I’m not retarded. I know what’s going on here.
do you think you could be friends with her?
probably not.
even if she apologized?
eh, she doesn’t think she did anything wrong. and so she won’t ever apologize… and therefore not worth my time. plus she’s ugly and is currently putting on weight.
You gonna mess around with her tonight?
No. I have no plans on that.
Then why are you even going?
I don’t even want to.
But you’re gonna go.
Yes.
And you’ve never asked me to go.
Yes.
Okay. Just figuring this out.
i can’t really be around you right now.
why? because i’m happy. alyssa you’re going to have to get over it, i am happy. and it’s there. let me enjoy it.
i can’t.
thats not really going to work for us.
i know. so maybe i should just take a you and me vacation til either you’re sad, or well, til you’re sad again.
What do you want from me? You want me to treat you like shit? Will that make you respect me?
Well I think I’m used to girls taking advantage of me so it makes sense.
Well I can’t treat you like shit cuz I don’t think you’re shit. Okay?
Okay.
i’m sorry i can’t really can’t make out with you right now.
why not?
cause i won’t be able to enjoy it, and really i would just be doing it as an attempt to make someone who doesn’t care, jealous, and that’s not really going to help anything.
are you serious right now?
If you cared about me you’d let me go.
I can’t. I’m selfish. What can I say?
He loves you.
He’s drunk.
No today at lunch he was sober he couldn’t stop talking about you.
Yeah?
He really loves you. Its weird.
Why would I take you out to the city when I know I can just take you to my house and fuck you.
Wow.
I didn’t mean that.
No you did. It makes sense. I’m gonna go.
She’s never been good to you and here you want her to like you so bad. And I’ve been nothing but good and you so badly want to throw me away. Do it already. Stop keeping me around.
Alyssa I like you. I want you around me. I want to know to forever. I want to call you and talk. I want to be your friend. I don’t know what it is about you. But you’re growing on me.
He’s afraid to let his friends know me. And its weird cuz I’m kind of a lot prettier than anyone else he showed off to his friends.
people like me because i am smart, funny, pretty, athletic and interesting. well rounded.
you are not like that.
you must have a poster of ralph nader on your wall.
Why do you got to pretend that you’re not in love with me?
I’m not.
everyone loves me, has once loved me, or will love me, i’m pretty amazing.
Is that why you stick around even though I treat you like shit? Cuz you’re waitin for me to fall in love with you?
No. I’m waiting for you to admit that you already do.
I don’t.
I’m not arguing.
he’s a bad judge in character. thats all i know. the girls he falls for are always the ugly, snotty, butch, bitchy ones with no sense of humor. so for reasons that don’t need be said, i will just say he wasn’t going to ever love me. and it was all my fault. i should have sucked more.
What do you think? I like you more than you know. You’re not ordinary. You’re beautiful. You’re interesting. You make me laugh. You make me laugh, you got that?
I don’t know why you call me everyday.
Because I want to talk to you.
Why do you want to talk to me?
Why do I have to tell you why all the time? Can’t I just call you and you know?
No. You have to tell me.
I’m not gonna spell it out for you.
Why can’t you?
I just don’t do that. and wont for you.
What do you think this is? I’m not trying to get with you. Were just friends talking.
What about tomorrow? You’ll be trying then.
Maybe. But right now its real.
I can’t deal with tomorrow.
She thinks you’re weak for liking me.
I’m not weak. I just like you.
I like when a girl invites herself over.
I don’t do that. You need to tell me.
Why can’t you take initiative?
Cause, I shouldn’t have to.
Chivlary is dead.
Then ill never be happy.
Stop crying. Please be happy. I want you always to be happy, Alyssa.
You know I think I’m addicted to making you laugh. Its my one goal in life.
I need you to say it.
Say what?
I like you. I need you to tell me that you like me like I like you.
Well I’m not going to do that.
Then I can’t be your friend. We can’t talk.
Okay if that’s how its going to be.
Yes.
Fine.
You could be happy and I won’t know, but you weren’t happy the day I watched you go. Somehow everything I own smells of you, and for the tiniest moment it’s all not true. Do the things that you always wanted to, without me there to hold you back, don’t think, just do. More than anything I want to see you, girl, take a glorious bite out of the whole world.
i don’t believe anything i write about. just so you know. i’m just a hater.
now that we got that accomplished…
i’m going to the meat market tomorrow night. i can’t wait. 3 dollar you call its. i have an interesting dilemna. lets use a metaphor:
dog problems.
i have a dog. i love this dog. probably more than anything. this dog is a husky, my favorite of all dogs, but still bi-polar. bites me when i stand in front of his food, thinks he owns me, protects me of course, but then walks away when i want to kiss him on the fur. all independent and shit, but obviously he still needs me to live, without me he doesn’t get food, water and shelter, but he’s all like, “whatever, i’m going to constantly pretend like i don’t need you.”
so yeah, i’m growing tired of him i guess. i love the dog. like a lot. more than most things in my life. but it’s so hard to love something that tells you everyday that it doesn’t want you back, even though you know it does? maybe i only think it knows it does. maybe it doesn’t want me. who knows really.
so now, my dog has run away from me. won’t wake me up in the middle of the night just to lick my face anymore. and it doesn’t help that in this husky’s absence, i’ve met a black lab, golden retriever and a australian shepherd. and they are all the opposite of my husky. they run up to me. they bring me the fucking frisbee that they want to catch. i can sit there, not chase them, and they come back. and it’s nice. because i’m tired of looking for this husky. always running away. always hiding. always pretending the grass is greener.
i’m so sick of husky games. huskies are great ideas, and i’ll always want one. but seriously, no one should ever own one. they’ll only break your heart.
if you love something let it go.
“And so I walk the web in search of love
But always seem to end up stuck
I’m finding flaws in everyone.
I’ve reached the point where all I want
Is to sleep around in hopes that I will catch back up
We are parallel lines
We’re running in circles
We’re never meant to cross…
Can you hear me?
Are you listening?
This is the sound of my heart breaking
And I hope it’s entertaining
Cause for me
it’s a bitch…
Was it worth it?
When you slept with him?
Did you get it all out of your system?”
dog problems by the format
that’s all.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
intoxicated.
on this drunken life.
fix your face on this.
the love you gave me in your sorry red eyes.
this is your life.
don’t fill it with lies.
that kill.
your soul.
hypocrites.
can you live for both?
can you imagine a life.
different from here?
get out of here.
where to go.
somebody told me.
you would know if you listened.
i listen. nothing.
but i see.
i see what is right.
i see my face in your sorry black heart.
oh so sorry your mind.
filled with regret for you.
not me.
sorry for your lie.
kill this.
kill me now.
no, smile. now. and run.
hypocrites.
can you serve both?
i ask of you.
of everybody.
of me.
you can’t. you know it.
still. it gets harder.
i don’t wanna be like them.
typical pharisees.
trying to push their philosophies.
so wrong.
hypocrites.
i see you.
i see your sorry blue hands.
cold. trembling.
and you know their names.
you can count them on those hands.
if you could sit still.
once we were friends.
now so far.
they don’t love you anymore.
no.
because you went this way.
they went that.
you don’t want their life.
but do you want your own?
what are you doing today?
lying. again.
you are nowhere better.
you just are.
just you.
just sorry.
but you don’t know it yet.
i see you.
the love you gave me in your sorry red eyes.
crying.
for yesterday.
apologizing in advance.
and you say:
‘dear father. i know not what i’m about to do.’
don’t you think. of me. when you are alone?
to know this wasted life. of yours.
could mean less to you. then me.
i’m sorry it got so insane.
i’m sorry you forgot to quit.
while you were behind.
and there he was.
all dressed up.
he smiled.
and he said, “wait here.”
“and i’ll come back for you.”
as if i hadn’t heard that before.
a mindless game. found you apathetic.
but i’m still the only thing. that makes you tick.
we won’t talk. cause we don’t have to.
we won’t talk. not of this.
we won’t talk. cause i don’t want to.
and what i say. needs to go with out saying.
i know. i’m a complication.
all dressed up.
smiling at you.
“wait here.”
“but i won’t be coming back.”
as if you’ve heard that one before.
theres nothing like a catch. before you fall.
but you never tried.
and i’m still at the top.
looking past my feet. to get to you.
and you might stare.
you might smile.
but you never said, “wait here”
and somehow.
i’m still here.
trace my palms.
with yours.
lets see what happens.
when i write this down.
will you tell me to stop.
will you pretend you don’t know.
will you hold back from me.
because you don’t understand.
please.
let me hold on to this.
for one more day.
for one more second.
will pass and i will be empty.
again.
lets pretend that there is nothing better.
then right now.
and let it last forever.
right now.
right then.
i couldn’t know.
but i thought.
(about you.)
for a little while.
everything i am.
has lead to this.
and yet.
it will die in my hands.
like everything else.
that slips away.
and runs away.
and falls away.
and is away.
and that was never there.
hold my hands.
because they are better with yours.
then tell me to forget the world.
and just be me.
and just be you.
for one more day.
one more day.
it’s in my head.
but why is pen and paper.
the only way it comes out.
to you.
how long do i stand.
in this place alone.
how long do i lay.
under the stars.
waiting.
holding.
this bottle of dreams.
that is already empty.
because i’ve been waiting so long.
now i don’t know how to fill it back up.
but i am free.
but i am empty.
my hands are cold.
i toss and turn in my bed. it’s 3am. my sister is already asleep and i am mad at her because she is not awake to listen to me talk. and i am mad at her because she is able to sleep.
i wonder why i can’t sleep. why i actually have resorted to counting sheep. and why it is not working.
i think maybe i just need to calm down. maybe if i smoked a cigarette. just one. and then it’s not like i’m addicted. i will just use it for what it was made for. i get out of my bed. walk downstairs. every stair creaks in my house. i think about the word creak. and how i have no idea how to spell it.
creek? creak? creke. nothing in my head looks right. it’s one of those dumb words that probably isn’t even a word. more of a sound. and can you spell sounds? willow creak.
i open the door to my outside. my cigarettes are in my car. so that is where i am headed. the door to my house won’t shut without first making the loudest whale noise known to man. and then it slams behind me. because i live in an old house. and thats what happens in an old house. an old house with no air conditioning. an old house with loud natural noises.
i am outside now. and it’s gross and slimey feeling. can air feel slimey? it can in illinois.
i get in my car, and take a cigarette out. i have no lighter. i look around for matches. i know i have some. they are in here somewhere. damn matches. i look under the seats. in the cushions. in my trunk space.
“what the fuck, matches.”
i am starting to freak out now. so i just casually tell myself that looking for a way to light the cancer stick is definitely doing way more harm then it could ever do good. so i walk to my front stoop, and sit down.
i cry. i cry a thousand tears. each which should dry my eyes out, only cause more tears. and then i talk. i talk to myself. i talk to God. because after all what is this?
what am i feeling? why am i not happy? and why has my life caused me more pain then good? why did that lady stop me to tell me that God wanted me to ask for things from him. and then God would give them to me. pray.
crazy lady. crazy God talkers. if there is a God. why the fuck does he not talk to me?
why do the insanes tell me things and freak me out? and really, if the lady was correct, where are the gifts that i am supposed to recieve? or when they are upon me, do they leave before i get to touch them?
I don’t know, but i believe that God must hate me. that he must get joy out of my pain.
fuck off God.
yeah i said it.
if all good things come from you. then you must not exist to me. i’m sorry. no. i’m not. fuck you.
i cry. because tears feel good. because they mean something. they mean i am alive. and they mean i can still feel. i know in my heart that God exists. there is too much meaning in life to say that there is no God. but to say that God truly loves me. that he could, when i have been so alone. that when i cry out to him he does not answer. and when i protect his name, he does not protect me back.
really. am i so wrong?
the only people to dislike me are those at the church.
the only people to judge me. are those from church.
It hurts when i am OF the church.
this is what people must associate me to. this is what people must think of me. but i am not them. i just want to love them. but they don’t want to love me.
God. if you love people. why do you let this happen? why when I ask for peace. for hope. for something good. do you turn it down? why do you wave it in front of my face and watch me leap for it and then laugh as i fall flat on my face? i have faith. and if this is testing. you are really going to far.
i stand up and walk around my front yard. i stomp my feet in anger. cause it feels good to be immature and insignificant. it feels good to not care and to be angry. it feels good to say the “f” word and know that i am allowed to do whatever the hell i want.
it feels good. and i say to God. “give me a sign.”
i wait for it. crickets.
i wait for it. mosquitos.
i wait for it. damn mosquitos.
i wait for it. God. you suck.
then fine, don’t give me a sign. show me you love me. and we’ll keep talking. it’s not fair to be in this state. when it’s not a chemical imbalance. i have perfectly good reasons to be sad. i have perfectly good reasons to cry. and to get mad at you God. i have good reasons to be angry. and no good reasons to be happy. the good never cancels out the bad.
one time someone told me that it’s pointless to hold your anger in at God. let it out and then find out that what you were mad at was not God at all. just yourself. maybe even… the devil. hahaha.
fuckin devil. i’m pretty sure i’m angry at God.
he doesn’t have to let this happen to me. when i ask for protection, he can save me. if he really wants to rescue me, he could have done it. on new years. with my friends. with my church. but i was lost.
i get up out of my place. walk inside. up the stairs. and lay back in my bed. i would be lying if i say i don’t toss and turn for a few more minutes. but soon i am out. dreaming. maybe it’s not a sign. but at least i’m worn out. and if you are to see me. i am smiling. because i know i am full of shit.
| things i will do.
take a walk in the cold. |
in my head everything is perfect. the ocean below me crashing into itself. softly rustling, but loud enough to drown out the man on the otherside of the pier playing the guitar. singing. i think it’s spanish. but it could be english. i hear mumbling. i hear the pacific. i see diamonds.
i might be the only person i know that can waste five hours of my life driving, so that i can sit for two hours in front of a a body of water. alone.
but it is nice to be alone. it is nice to quietly gather thoughts, and sort through life, and teach myself to live. i am my best student. because i am good at listening. not that you aren’t. but you just aren’t.
when my mind is blank– my mind is never blank. my heart is always hurting. and my life is never simple. i wish i could stand in front of you, whole and good and strong. i wish i didn’t care that the friends i had were never my friends to begin with, and that that is not my fault.
i always tried to figure out which hurt worse. to be alone, or to be in a room with eyes quietly judging you for things that they heard second, third and tenth hand. but i know now, i love being alone. there is no contest.
i used to want to be with someone. i remember this man. i looked up to him in so many ways. and he admired and respected me. there were times that i saw a light inside him, that would take me to the otherside. but he gave up, right when i needed him the most. and that is the same with the rest of you.
you stopped calling me. you wrote about me so that everyone could read– on the internet of all the classy places. and when you see me. you smile and ask me how i am. fuck you. don’t pretend to care if you don’t. and if you really do care. put your back into it. i’m worth to know, and i’m sure that you are too. but i guess we’ll never know.
i’ve had a lot of time on my hands to do nothing. to read. to write. to think. and i wish i could continue sorting out what really matters. but all i think about is– you don’t get to know.
it’s strange the way that one person can destroy everything you’ve ever believed. that he can force you to start fresh. one foot at a time. both eyes open this time. checking over your shoulder. paranoia. that anyone after you, doesn’t want your mind, because the one who said he loved that part of you, left you. and the one who took your body- denied the fault and left you with confusion. then never had the face to apologize. he just grabbed on to anything his little heart could reach. and faked it for them. so that they would still take him in.
i don’t think of him anymore. i think of the aftermath.
but i can’t care if you like me. the world is huge. i’ll move on. i have. but my heart still hurts sometimes. and when i am alone. when i have time to think. this is what i see.
{an endless ocean full of shame and doubt. confusion. lost souls. angry words. rape. lies. and a blanket of hope. that one day everything will be taken away to the otherside of the world. and we won’t have to look at it again.}
you can’t hurt me. because i’ve already been hurt too deep. so come to me if you want to. try with me, and maybe i’ll give you something. something good. something real. maybe i’ll let my guard down. but if you don’t want to take the time, i’ll understand. and i’ll walk on this side of the ocean, dreaming of the day God takes me for an endless swim.
twenty-one.
It’s my birthday tomorrow.
According to the clock on my laptop, I will be twenty-one in thirty-one minutes. I’m sitting up. I should be sleeping. I am tired. I have to work tomorrow. I have a million things to take care of. I should be sleeping. I should be. But I am not. I am waiting.
Waiting for what exactly? I do not know. Maybe I am waiting for a phone call from a good friend, who is going to sing to me the entirety of the birthday song at 12:01. Maybe I am waiting for the satisfaction of knowing that I turned a whole year older and didn’t die. Maybe I’m waiting for my life to change, like if tomorrow, the old pain will leave with the old year. Maybe I know that if I go to sleep, I am still going to have to face tomorrow sooner rather than later, and I don’t like what tomorrow brings. Insomnia doesn’t stop when it is your birthday the next day. It only seems to make it worse.
The fall has always been my New Year change. October 1st is my New Years Eve. It is the night that I fill with anticipation. It’s the night that I make my list of all the things that I should do from now on- that I, of course, will never do. It’s the night that I choose to tell myself to grow up a little more. The night that I throw away an empty life, hoping to refill it with all the excitement and hope of someone who doesn’t know that what she wants, she will never get, and what she loves- will never love her back.
I have always wanted to be stupid. I thought that if I was ignorant of the world and what it wanted of me, then maybe the guilt of not doing anything would not haunt me, and I could my live life happy and free of it all. I could soar on the wings of the unknown, and land at the edge of the world, never wondering or questioning, never caring. But what stops me is the understanding that I know how cliché that last sentence sounded, and even I can not bear to leave it there. But I will. Because I don’t care anymore. An old friend once said, “Fuck it man.” And those are the wise words of the hour. Of my birthday hour.
I am not unaware. I am wise- or whatever I have been told. I am capable of thinking. I know everything that in this moment, I need to know. And that is what kills me. I am sad. And I am pointless. If only because I know that I am not doing anything to fulfill the dreams of others. I am not adding to the chain of command, and I am not doing anything for the circle of life. I am an understatement of my own failure. I look in the mirror, I am twenty one, but I see zero. I am nothing but a little girl who still hasn’t found her place in this world. Fuck. My mother was pregnant with her second child at this age. That child was me. And that child is a fuck up.
So this is my day. My “special” day. The day that will feel complete, come the purchase of a new license and some fancy alcohol. Fancy alcohol. Not the kind of alcohol I drink from plastic cups at frat parties in Madison. But that I am allowed to drink. I honestly never thought I would be here. Finally, there is no reason to punish me for my actions. I am allowed to find out if I am an alcoholic. And you can’t look down your nose and expect me to feel it. You can’t expect me to know you exist at all. But I will always remember what you said before. I will always remember what you told my friends. You think I am crazy. And I forgive you. But I don’t forget you. I never have forgotten. Because you have not let me. Your unwillingness to forgive yourself is what will haunt me until I learn to not be so sympathetic.
The clock strikes midnight. Happy birthday too me. I check my phone. I get a text message- from a friend. I get a phone call as well- from another friend. My companions. The ones who never let me down when I needed them. Who never stopped caring for me. Who never thought that I would be fine on my own. Who knew me better than that. Who reminded me that if I only have 5 friends for the rest of my life, they will be the ones who are real and who know me better than anyone.
This was never you verse me. This was never me against the world. This year has been me and my friends living life, day by day, so that we don’t die. So that we can stand up and move forward. So that we can love. I am so sorry that you thought I would make it without you. And I am sorry that you found out too late. I am sorry. But now our relationship is forever severed. If only because the trust is what is gone. The trust has become the empty hole of our relationship, and I don’t believe you anymore.
I don’t know if that ever comes back.
I am twenty-one. I never thought I’d get here. I never thought I’d let myself get here. But I did. I made it. I am so dramatic I know. But life is precious, and life is pain. And I lived it. Sometimes I lived it alone. Sometimes I lived it with people who will never be allowed in my life again. And sometimes I lived through it with those that I will never let out of my life again. I made it one more year. And to the grandmothers who have lived, I know that life is always going to get worse before it gets better. I know that life is not for the faint of heart. I know that if you can’t take it. You get out.
Silly me for thinking last year was the worst year of my life. Silly me for crying over spilt milk, when I should have saved my tears for the future that still lies ahead of me. Silly me for forgetting that it can always be worse, and someone with my luck, always needs to carry around a block of wood. Silly me for never explaining myself to anyone who did not ask. But then again, if you did ask, I would have told you nothing. Because honestly, I never cared if you did believe me. The fact that you didn’t ask me, spoke for you. The ones who ask- Believe first.
I’m not ready for tomorrow. But I was not ready for today either. But somehow through the tears and fears of what it could have and evidentially did bring to me- I made it out alive. I am twenty-one years old. For real this time. Younger than most, but older than many. Prettier than some, but uglier than the majority. Smarter than you, but not nearly as smart as those with experience. I am a screw up. I can’t hold a fake conversation without flirting too much, as if to lead you on. I don’t know how to do long division with decimals, and I never wanted to learn. I will probably starve in the future, because I know nothing of handling money. Here I stand. A fuck up.
But still, with love, I will write my thoughts, and give them to those who will listen.
it’s funny how we are so the same. you with your long limbs, me who can’t reach the top of the wall that was put there by me. we do the same. yet we are not the same. and i try to figure this out. and i try to pretend that i get it. but i don’t. how the world can move so fast by me, and i will always be stuck. stuck waiting for the one to come to me. and i don’t believe in the one. just love. and i love. but love forgot how to love me back.
and there have always been so many firsts. and there have always been so many seconds. and you got my sloppy seconds. and we danced. but didn’t move. and i was tired. and now we are done. and i am stuck with these thoughts.
like dashboards. and confessions. and foggy mornings. and beds that don’t belong to you. we are the same. interwined like rope that has already fallen apart. and you don’t want my trash. and i don’t want yours. so we move on. and follow smoke into the dark. and try to grasp it. and fall down. again and again.
we are the same. and i don’t love myself. so how the hell am i supposed to love you?
i don’t.
“If you are the voice inside of my head
That’s fine with me
I’ll turn down the bed
You cannot control me from the other side
No, you will not control me from the other side
Here we are again, love
Here we go again
By your side i can’t pretend anymore
Now everything starts where it ends
When nobody wants you in their life
It’s alright, it’s gonna be alright”
“Now I will never fall in love
Now I will never really explain myself
But honey I will sing”
