throw the dice but every number leads to the epilogue

monday 11th november 2002 @ 20:47

i used to think that we were similar. that's what made us good friends. good companions/friends/lovers?. we appreciate the same things. but it has come to light that we do not appreciate the beauty that we see/hear/sense for the same reasons. we are spun by different feelings/memories. overwhelmed by different words/thoughts/emotions. and though the focus of our admiration and desire may be the same at any given moment, our motivations are not.

and now i see how i can never take a place beside you. and you were smart enough/distanced enough/careless enough to know that in the beginning. initial doubts about my value in your life, without your past successes and brighter future, are fading. it is less that i am just not good enough/smart enough/cool enough/successful enough/alternative enough for you, and more that you are just too different from me.

you said you didn't want to hurt me and i didn't want you to. i was never in a position to break your heart. i can't flatter myself with that kind of power.

reading: sputnik sweetheart by haruki murakami

hearing: quireboys, thunder. warming up for monsters of rock

wanting: to just get on and be friends, no regrets

fearing: that you will know how much it broke me and leave me standing because you can't look at my face/hear my voice without bitterness/anger/hate/distrust