Going down Abbey Road, again…it’s on repeat, and she can’t shake it.

I want you

I want you so bad

It’s driving me mad

Understatements. She did want him. A him. But she never met the him she so desperately wanted. Just boys masquerading as him. Boys who occasionally made her laugh, and lust, and like. Distracted her, but never consumed her. She didn’t really want them. She just wanted them to be the him that she wanted. So she pretended. But Vonnegut lied, we aren’t who we pretend to be. And it always ends with bruised egos, bitter words, and used boys. With her feeding her guilt complex and wondering if she’ll do it again. If she’ll pretend out of impatience. And worse, if all the lies it takes to pretend, makes her truth less believable for future use. For him.

She’s so heavy

She’s so heavy, heavy, heavy


1 note / 18.11.08 / Permalink