headchecks

“I'm doing fine.

Been dealing with this for a long time, I'll be alright”

…

I don't know if I believe him,  but it's not my place to even know.  I feel obligated to help him, I've worn the same size skates, but we're strangers.

Our lives may be parallel,  but the connection remains parasocial. We know absolutely nothing about the other and everything at the same time.

I hope one day our lines may intersect.

i think it's a little funny:

when i got my first concussion,  you jumped to defend me,  what's his name? jersey number? team? i'll get him for you— and one year after i get another concussion this time i gave it to myself,  trying to die,  and i never told you— but you still went out of your way to hit him back

my parents are always on my case for not having a plan for my year off school but i do have a plan. i go out to semi professional sporting events and act all tsundere. men, especially jocks with inflated egos, are stupid horny and i will snag a man or two in no time and be a sugar baby. my androgynous looks and mysterious presence will draw them in like a siren song. no matter what their sexuality is, they’ll question it at the sight of me. meanwhile i build my portfolio as an independent artist.

the one that eventually strikes up a conversation with me asks me if i want to get coffee with him. i agree. he pays for me despite my arguments. but its not at all patronizing or pitying me–he asked me, so he thinks he should pay.

the first time i stay overnight in his apartment, i kiss him. he’s surprised. the next morning, he leaves me a hand written note apologizing for having to leave early for practice, along with $300 in cash, just for keeping him company and talking with him.

then i’ll do something awfully endearing like paint a portrait of his dog and he falls in love with me and wants to become serious. he asks me to move in with him and i do. during his first offseason with me he proposes to me. it’s all too fast but i say yes.

(our wedding will be held off for years, but neither of us mind, because whether or not we’re married, we’re happy.)

i start signing my paintings with a hyphenated surname

i know i want to move forward but i'm falling back in time my past is catching up to me and i know that i can't hide

the plane is landing early and i'm falling back in line maybe if i get out now everything will turn out fine

nothing is good for me here no one has the time to even care about each other and loving is a crime

we always want to move forward but we're falling back in time our past is catching up to us and there's nowhere we can hide

BYE BYE SUBURBIA YOU NEVER TOOK ME IN NEITHER DID THE CITY NEITHER DID MY BACK YARD

BYE BYE SUBURBIA WHERE DO I BELONG NOW? WHERE I LONG TO BE, NOW? AND I GET SPIT BACK OUT

2am let's get high in the bathtub and cry about boys again the moonlight of our last goodbye i sometimes can still taste your sin

i've exhausted all my options but i'm still stuck on you why did you pull me in only to push me off the bridge?

one two three four five six seven eight sixty sixty sixty

i fell for you at the start, but then we had to drift apart. now the line is coming round again and i'm falling backwards in love

it's been about a year since i broke my heart see, you didn't break it, it was me. my expectations of you, the concept of you in my head, destroyed me

when i found out what you really were

you were angry and upset not at me, by the way i should have held your hand you should have let yourself cry.

screaming, yelling, cursing, pushing, i should have held you back I should have comforted

and then on the bus he opened up to me i promised i'll stay with him and i should have held his hand