all the boys at *****'s house want to fuck me and i'm too stupid to realize that's a bad thing. i want to let B, but i know i don't have the guts to do it. we're listening to Dashboard Confessional because i always picked the music. i look around and know that i need to go, but this is better than leaving. this is when i pretend that everything's going to be fine. we're listening to Iron & Wine's "Naked As We Came". i'm high, lying on my back on the living room floor. you're standing by the back door, smoking a cigarette with a beer in your hand. your forehead's resting on your right forearm, which's pressed against the wall by the door. you're singing along and crying because you believe that's us. i'm singing along and crying because i know it's not.
i lose the ring you gave me, though not on purpose. you're only mildly offended since you didn't pay for it yourself. i reorganize the pantry because i can't reorganize anything else. sometimes you do things, like tie a red bow onto the kitten's collar, that make it a little better. but most of the time you just exist. and i stay. because staying is better than leaving and i'm pretending this is normal.