Wow, it really has been a long time, hasn’t it?
Is it pathetic that I listen to your mix over and over?
I’m sure you don’t do that with mine.
I’m sure you need me less than I need you.
Everybody wants me to be their journal. I can’t save you, and I can’t help you. I’m sorry, I know you know I’m just as lost as you, which is why you come to me. And because you know I listen. I know that. I know that me writing this only furthers my position as your journal. And that my music only encourages it, too. And I know that being honest only drives you away. But I don’t know what else to be. I’m not that different. I’m a person, too. But you already knew that.
I have been thinking a lot lately. I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have gone to Flagstaff. You made me a mix and you made me a mix, and we laid there like lovers while we listened to them. I rubbed your side and you scratched my back and we both pretended like it was okay. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized, on your mix, all the songs are third person, about “you,” and all the songs on mine are first person, about “me,” and that says so much. I had forgotten what it felt like to be in love. I got home and cried again, and felt guilty, and stopped myself again. I tried to write a song about remembering and nothing came. I felt pathetic.
You’ve been in and out of a big relationship since me. I have been on four dates and never cared to see any one of them again. It’s not attraction anymore. I know you still appreciate me. I am just tired of being an idea. I’m a person, too.
I have a lot of passion, but passion isn’t enough. I have a lot of space on my couch - what do you think about that?