ground into dust
Originally Uploaded here
Half-right, the imaginary travel companion isn't imaginary, but the somewhat significant one is apparently local. More sustainable, I suppose.
Where have all my grandiose ambitions gone? Were they ever even there?
You know, I can't even get myself to be upset over you. I mean, not really. Perhaps emergency room trips are a poor metric. I am, of course, joking, but still. You are so very lovely, all I can feel is empty without you. That hardly seems even worth mentioning though, I was empty before.
My goals, they have become so simplistic and self-serving. It feels like failure.
I guess the problem is that I've been there. That I've loved like the world was ending. And its an awful, terrible feeling, both before, during, and after. But I want it. I remember the little things you each did. I remember you pulling on my hood, I remember you telling me you wanted me to be happy, I remember... And then it's gone, nothing, like life itself, fleeting. Unfortunately, unlike life, you have to deal with its absence. It gnaws, wears at you, like phantom limbs.
Maybe I just want to be happy without feeling like a monstrous douchebag. Maybe I will amount to something one day, but I can't help but just want that simple something.
Currently Listening: Amanda Palmer - Another Year (youtube)
Written On: Home Computer