vendredi 2 octobre 2009

The dreamer, the poet, the party animal, the voice of reason, the joker, the emo, the sarcastic one, the superstar, the asshole, the one that’s “never really there”, the nympho, the one you run away from…
Freaks? Yes maybe. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.
This is for you,
I miss you. Big.
And so my darlings,
If you find yourself feeling alone on a quiet street or in the midst of a noisy crowd in Beirut, London, Oxford, Paris or Chicago remember, we are still in the same bubble, its just that for now, it’s a very big bubble.
Fear not. It will get smaller very soon.
A dark room. Two kisses on the forehead, one from him, one from her. Four hundred dollars on my night table. A closing door. And then they were gone. I knew they were leaving. It was a matter of time. But I didn’t want to come to terms with it.
I want my mama. There I said it.
Drinking a Black label on the rocks, smoking reds in a familiar bar, with a familiar buddy, watching what used to be a legend on an strangely flattened television screen was exactly what my doctor ordered.
I didn’t want to talk about all the bullshit that had been building up in my stomach for the past year. I wanted to disinfect it with the poisonous substance I was ingesting.
Saying goodbye. Saying goodbye. Saying goodbye. No matter how many times I say it, I can’t get used to the idea.
In the words of the Gossip… it’s a cruel, cruel world to face on your own.