These are the things that made it back in my pockets alongside a lighter, some loose money, a couple of receipts, and two CDs. I needed some way to get my head a little less full.
First one (We ended up having a first floor room):
"If you could see the things in my head, would you hate me?
Faster, faster.
This is why I hate writing on paper. I absolutely hate it.
We're in the car and the neon lights tell me it's 8:46.
The neon signs tell me we've got two hours of road in front of us before our heads meet hotel pillows.
Listening to new TAI songs, and thank god for them.
I miss you I miss you.
When we get there, I hope our room is on the second floor.
I'll lean over the balcony and close my eyes and watch me fall.
It will sting like hell.
But it won't be any worse than thinking of you.
I miss hearing your words, it's not like they hurt much anyway.
dance dance dance dance dance dance dance dance
I'm so afraid, I'm just stalling.
Xo."
Second one (I did end up getting the computer. Prepare for rant.):
"Things once so planned and cared for, now torn down and corrupted. I can only write what I feel, the rest is up to you. The computer (MY computer) is in Kayela's room. I doubt I'll have access to it. My room is her room. My things are now hers. I hate it, and they're calling Kristen and Jon "aunt and uncle" as if they know shit about us or our lives. Or care. They don't. Already, I want to get out. This town is not my home anymore. Nor are these walls. They are not my family. This is not my house, this is not my room, this is not my world. Hold me, please. I miss you. I can't wait until nighttime. Hold me. Xo."
Third one (Meant to add more, got distracted, etc.):
"When I said I'd be yours forever, I meant more like a curse, not like a lover."
I've never missed being suicidle as much as I did when I was there. I've never quite imagined I'd feel so disjointed.
When I came back and you seemed so excited and surprised, I swear my heart skipped a beat on the spot. But you'd never love me. What am I saying?
Thrashing in my own mind. I can't even get words out.
I can't even talk about Thanksgiving, it's all running together like I had a perfect picture painted out and the rain on the way back home pounded down so hard that it washed it all away and all that remains are melted mixed and soggy colors.
I'm glad to be home. I don't want to stay suicidle forever, but maybe just a little longer?
Patrick, stop making me smile so much. You're going to make my cheeks sore.
And everyone else, stop making me cry. You're going to make my eyes dry up.
I wish I was invisible as you make me feel. Maybe I am. Do you regret the things you said to make me feel like I was something special, or like I ever really mattered? Or did I ever really matter? Slow down, slow down.
Drip your poison words in my ears and watch the results as they seep into my brain and cause a seizure.
Haha, I love you so much I don't know what I'd do without you. Why am I thinking about you so much? Maybe I missed you more than I should have. I should quit while I'm ahead and breathe before I get hurt (by myself).
All in all I'm really just rambling.
I'm really so sore.
It was a good trip, but I wasn't impressed, and I definitely wasn't excited.
I never want to see them again.
But honestly it opened my eyes.
Change isn't such a bad thing. Because I'm here and not there. I miss things. But not most things. I hate things. But not some things.
I'm going to close my eyes and dream of him not you and hope you're jealous but know you're not.
XOXOXO.
