It’s not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I’m mistaken
For handing you a heart worth breakin’I’ve been wrong, I’ve been down
Been to the bottom of every bottle
These five words in my head
Scream “Are we having fun yet?”It’s not like you didn’t know that
I said I love you and I swear I still do
It must have been so bad
Cause living with me must have damn near killed you…
Now.. I’m falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I’ve held onto
I’m standing here until you make me move
I’m hanging by a moment here with youI’m living for the only thing I know
I’m running and not quite sure where to go
I don’t know what I’m diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you
Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you, even when I know you’re wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance, five-hour phone conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had … and me
Choices, choices.. too many options, and none of them are simple black and white. I’m faced with a thousand shades of grey… Why am I even thinking about this when I should just be concentrating on getting back to work? Why? Because suggestion is the beginning of wonder, wonder leads to planning, planning gets me in trouble. Suggestions have been planted by all manner of people, from my mother (bless her troublesome, manipulative, attention-seeking heart) to Steve, Steve’s mother, Clay, Steve’s house-mates, Suze, Kate, blah, I shan’t complete this list. But they all seem to be either directly shouting or subtly hinting at the same thing. That same thing can’t be said out loud. Nothing can [Note to self: Keep asking the question – “Why can’t it be said out loud? Why can’t anything be said out loud?”]. Loud leaves us dying for a silence and a solitude brought on by the realization that this thing should have been realized long ago; and the realization that it was but it never was.
But that’s what life is, ja? Learn, lean, live, lie, life. I think If I keep typing I’ll end up saying something that I have to realize for myself, but shouldn’t say out loud. Though, having said that, I can’t think of much more to say, every word comes as a jumble from between horrendous shades of grey, difficult to discern and perhaps best left in camouflage for the time being.
Arg, shut up, crazy woman. Shush, hush, quiet now, it’ll all be all right in the end.