Wednesday, October 05, 2005

You get to a point in your life where you never meet anyone single anymore. You can't. Shit, you're not even single anymore. There's no more of that first love freedom because people don't show up at your door after 2 a.m. alone. They come with their ex-boyfriend. They come with their hump buddy from last month and they come with every little tragedy and every little memory buried deep down inside. They don't lie there and think, "take me to places I've never been." They think " don't hurt me like Johnny did. Nibble my ear the way Jake used to. I wonder what Brian would think if he saw me here right now.

She doesn't lie in your bed alone. There's an entire chores of voices ringing in her ears. There are old wounds and scrapes and tender scars that never quite healed. Careful when you run your hands down her body because if you touch one of those she'll go running. And you're laying their with your own chorus playing in your head. When the smell of her hair sends me hurtling back six years under the stars in the old VW convertible with the top down and the loud exhaust roaring behind us into the night. When there were fewer cares in my world then dollars in my pocket. When I was young enough that every wound healed without so much as a rough spot.

the saddest thing in the world is when a girl who could have been amazing was treated like shit enough times that she'll never be what she could have been. You can hold her. You can squeeze her tight and tell her she's beautiful. You can make her giggle and smile and squirm and moan but you'll never be able to get those voices to go away. That bitch of a mother who never taught her to love the way she could have. That asshole boyfriend who still strings her along. That guy back home who she sleeps with whenever she gets the chance because she needs the escape.

Everyone starts with 64 colors in their box of crayons. And everytime someone treats them like shit, a few of their crayons get stolen. There just aren't as many colors to work with the next time around. She's drawing a duller picture even if you're still rocking with 60 in your box.

If I could go back in time I would kick the crap out of every guy before they had the chance to swipe those crayons. And I'd probably end up with a couple shiners of my own.

4 Comments:

Blogger Mo said...

this one i get.

ive always felt like everyone i ever loved or was ever with or ever treated badly never really left me. i guess that same feeling goes for other people too.

heres to keeping all your crayons.

9:57 PM  
Blogger dbhayes said...

did you ever notice that the 64 colors were like 2 dollars, when the 24 are like a quarter?

and thank you.

1:52 AM  
Anonymous Torgeir said...

"the saddest thing in the world is when a girl who could have been amazing was treated like shit enough times that she'll never be what she could have been. You can hold her. You can squeeze her tight and tell her she's beautiful. You can make her giggle and smile and squirm and moan but you'll never be able to get those voices to go away."

This is so true that it hurts just to read it..

3:45 AM  
Blogger eric said...

i'd deserve a few fists to the face, myself.

i remember henry rollins saying something similar. basically, that when things happen to you early on -- crazy shit like with an abusive parent -- little pieces of you die. and they don't come back.

they really don't. you just have to find other things that live and live for them. it's what makes us who we are.

e+

6:40 PM  

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