2004-07-02, 2:22 a.m.
Today I stood on the top of the world and poured out my heart.
And I hoped the whispers of the wind would carry it to you. I hoped it'd help you figure out my state, instead of putting me in my place.
But we're continents apart and it's harder to read your lips with these oceans between us.
And now there's talk of thunderstorms, and monsoons in our circles of friends.
Because of you.
Because of you I'm left like this, left to feel the pull of the concrete as it sucks my words away. And lately I'm about as certain as the weather, But I'm still, I'm still the same boy with all the skeletons in his closet... And this is still the baggage I bring.
And I'm hoping someday you'll get that, get that there's more to these clever rants than you'd suspect, but I guess we'll see.
But I want you to know that on that hilltop after my words ceased to linger on my tongue, I sat there and talked with your ghost. And with your head on my shoulder we watched the lights on the horizon flicker out. And we were still entranced in the smell, still dazed from light, still seized by the idea of Fireworks.
I know it's just eye candy, little more than smoke and mirrors but there's still something to it. Something captivating about the whole thing, the perception/misconception of it.
The romance of clinging particles of carbon tied together with the burden of a flame.
And it's about then, that I realize I've been sharing this moment with just a ghost. That there is no romance to it. Because you left me for dead, and I remember that none of this is real.
Not you.
Not me.
Not us.
And then the rain stops, and I wipe these tears from my face, and take that lonely walk down the hill.