3/30/2009
3/29/2009
3/27/2009
3/21/2009
3/14/2009
let be
He's inspired these days. He'll start up and I'll feel nervous. I feel rejected. I feel embarrassed.
I can remember sitting in his car and listening to the album for the first time. I listened to the words and exchanged a fraught glance with a friend to my right. A full car with a months worth of emotion, guilt and three people ignoring an elephant. I knew it was over then.
It had been over for quite some time; and now I was hearing how our time was spent.
I was so curious of it despite it bluntly reminding me of what I had been hiding from. What I had ultimately known along. I listened to it to remind myself of what I could never have and what could never be. I was so hurt by it but so enamored and interested in something I had unknowingly helped come to be. Even if it was painful; because it was painful.
He knew how to say it and he knew he had to say it and I knew he had to say it, and I would say the same in my attempts at ripped off poetry via email and a recited voicemail message shamefully practiced too many times before.
And then at the darkest moment we found eachother, when I had finally realized the truth. It felt unreal and magical, and for a moment it was unreal and magical.
I need to set everything free
My biggest selfish fear is becoming a hindrance to an outlet, which is what I have undoubtedly realized. I am afraid of his, I want to be part of his but not as his dissenting inspiration. I can never offer myself as a favorable muse of any sorts. I am the epitome of destruction. I can't escape myself, sometimes.
We all deserve our creativity. I need to let him be.
I can remember sitting in his car and listening to the album for the first time. I listened to the words and exchanged a fraught glance with a friend to my right. A full car with a months worth of emotion, guilt and three people ignoring an elephant. I knew it was over then.
It had been over for quite some time; and now I was hearing how our time was spent.
I was so curious of it despite it bluntly reminding me of what I had been hiding from. What I had ultimately known along. I listened to it to remind myself of what I could never have and what could never be. I was so hurt by it but so enamored and interested in something I had unknowingly helped come to be. Even if it was painful; because it was painful.
He knew how to say it and he knew he had to say it and I knew he had to say it, and I would say the same in my attempts at ripped off poetry via email and a recited voicemail message shamefully practiced too many times before.
And then at the darkest moment we found eachother, when I had finally realized the truth. It felt unreal and magical, and for a moment it was unreal and magical.
I need to set everything free
My biggest selfish fear is becoming a hindrance to an outlet, which is what I have undoubtedly realized. I am afraid of his, I want to be part of his but not as his dissenting inspiration. I can never offer myself as a favorable muse of any sorts. I am the epitome of destruction. I can't escape myself, sometimes.
We all deserve our creativity. I need to let him be.
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