to the tune of spout/beg by colourbook

fuck it man. Im drunk and I had a good time. except I didnt have a good time at all. the tequila was fun and the friends were nice, but I didnt feel it. I havent felt it in a long time. Maybe its the song, maybe its something else, but I find myself wishing you were in danger. wishing you were in trouble. wishing you hurt yourself. wishing you fucked yourself up, so that no one else loved you. then, I could come, and you would know I loved you all along. I could come, and save you. You would have to realize that I loved you all along. That YOU love me. that is why people like the movies. the movies fucking arrange life so that two people can be in love. the fucking circumstances mean soo much. I want to embrace what I feel when I think of you in another person, but I havent been able to yet. I want to make you understand, but I think you already know. Why am I so convinced that you still love me? why does everything I experience in life that resembles beauty or inspiration make me think of the clumsy stupid times we had? the days and nights of notes and fumbling. the excited crazyness of yourself. I had you FIRST. you learned from me. dont ever forget that I learned from you. dont ever forget the rooftop. dont ever forget what I said. I meant every word. Im over here to get over you. It hasnt worked so far. know anyone like you? am I spoiled? why am I drawn to sabotage? my love has turned selfish. leave me alone. you cant, though. you need to run, because I cant leave you alone.