I put on the kettle to make yet another cup of tea...why can I not just sit down and draw!? I repeat to myself "maybe you're just not an artist...maybe you're not?" because this is just bollocks.my mind is blank.even the idea that maybe photography is the answer...
kind of breaks my heart a little. I want to be good.but maybe I'll never be quite what I want to be.
the toast I put on is black...6 minutes is probably a little long to have left it unguarded.
I tortured myself earlier, looking at some work by an ex-boyfriend, and ex-bestfriend(yeah..torture not just because...) - it's the kind of stuff that makes people gasp when they see it, because the quality is so astounding. but,...just because.
I forgot about that tea....AC/DC is thumping in my chest,in my belly. I feel like my hands don't work - but it's fucking too clear - the problem is not my hands but my head.
I skip over Gomez, to..great...bloody Coldplay.the very band I can't quite bring myself to listen to even now - the soundtrack to said "Ex" relationship. tragic music for a tragic union (melodramatic...me?) "Warning Sign" is the song..I can't change it.just like I cannot change things that I so did wrong, out of desperation and fear.
I'd lost him long before I gave up trying to hold on to him.he ment the world to me.and I destroyed it.pushed pushed pushed.probably left him feeling I was completely insane.
I'm certain now he'll never want to see me again.he's walked past me in the street.and that cliche is true.it does,it cuts like a knife.I had hoped, even up until this year (the last time we were friends was...about 4 years ago) that maybe things could be fixed...one day. hell..if I'm going to be totally honest-which it's in my idiotic nature to be. I still hope.think I always will.just in case.
sometimes it really is just better not to think too much.or love too much for that matter.
it'll always come back to bite you hard on the ass (is that just being defeatist? and cynical?)
I feel like this is one thing I still deserve to hurt about.because there is no way I could ever not regret him not being in my life.
and the bastard will always be a better artist than me.