one more ending

i can never matter enough to you.
i will never matter enough to you.
you will always matter too much to me.

sitting. jeans and a hoodie. why do i feel like stephan jenkins when i wear this thing? i'd kill to be that hott. i'd kill to be able to write something like "motorcycle drive by". instead, all i do is kill you with my eyes every time you put that muther fuckin' dollar in the juke box and play it for me. walking back to the barstool beside me. proud. smile on your face.

"i played this for you."
"thanks. you know i love it."

it's you. it's us. it's this very moment that repeats itself every few months that i hate. how do people like you get people like me to fall for you?

the end of a questionable week. my head was all. over. the. map. i seem to be having a lot of days like that lately. all i wanted to do was stay in tonight. hide under my blanket, dead on the couch until monday morning. my friends had other ideas. the plan was to stay in, maybe make a phone call or two. it seems that i have a lot of unreturned voicemail on my phone. not sure how i got to this day. to this point. the place where i hide from every single name that shows up on my caller ID. anyway, not just one, but three of them are dragging me out. this after canceling on them not once, but twice earlier in the week. why they still make the effort is beyond me.

"i kinda just want to stay in."
"nope. unacceptable. what time will you be here?"

and with that, i'm getting ready. and with that, i count myself lucky. lucky that some people in my life care about me.

this is the end. this is where it stops. tonight. this moment. tonight, not again. the pity. the bitterness. the anger. the sadness. well, one can hope right? life is what it is. i'm where i am for a reason. constantly feeling as if i'm missing out on something is no way to live. i'm happy. i have a good life. many amazing friends. why was i pretending otherwise? making myself believe otherwise. so why sit and crave something better? wish for something more? compare what i don't have to what others do? when i can be out living. out writing my own story. and with that, i'm washing my hands clean of the fog my head's been in for the past few days, weeks. washing my hands clean of you taking me for granted. an end. a goodbye. a beginning. a whatever...

"and this is the last time we'll be friends again. and i'll get over you, you'll wonder who i am. and there's this burning, just like there's always been. i've never been so alone, and i've never been so alive."