You’ve done nothing over the last few months. Nothing at all, really. Your closest friends have moved on, and it was about damn time. You’ve ignored all their attempts to reach you, and they’ve finally given up. The only time you’ve left your house, really, was for work and to buy needed items, otherwise you’ve sat on your couch and watched Con Air and other newly released Nic Cage movies.
Every day is like a new breaking point reached. You haven’t done much over the last month or so, really. Mostly you’ve just sat there, which made things worse, and did nothing but watch everything move on around you, which made things worse. You know you’ve been forgotten, and you still haven’t forced yourself to think it was okay. You’ve tired, you really have, but it just makes things worse. You wish you had that empty feeling all the time, but mostly you just have that sharp pang.
oh, have i been to discreet?
how long am i supposed to wait?
i dream about you nightly,
can’t you tell i’m losing sleep?
oh, what am i supposed to do?
it’s hard to stay cool.
oh, when you smile at me,
i get nervous every time you speak.
oh baby, baby, baby please.
my heart sinks to my feet.
oh, what am i supposed to do?
i think about you nightly.
my bed’s too big for just me
when you turn your eyes,
i promise i won’t care,
oh, standing by your sister fair.
i’m coming apart at the seams,
pitching myself for leads in other peoples dreams.
now buzz, buzz, buzz
doc, there’s a hole where something was.
doc, there’s a hole where something was.
if only i had a stream thing. everybody could watch con air with me everyday and it would be beautiful.
