Sorry - 03.30.02 - 9:49 pm

Written on my old and tempermental typewriter while I drank peach Faygo. Four years ago, exactly (I'll try to throw in some line breaks):

"here i am again...alone in my room, spring break, and it's my choice. i should be out right now, enjoying the warm night and my quickly fading youth, but i had to get this out. i had to verbalize exactly what i'm feeling right now after spending an afternoon w/you in the sun and cheery florida dispostion. i feel too much like sylvia plath to keep my fingers from these keys.

so here i am...indie rock is on my old clock radio and i've wiped my typewriter clear of cobwebs and dead bugs. what better time to speak of something i've been fitfully ignoring now for months?

i hate saying this as much as i did one two three years ago but i still love you. maybe it's cuz for awhile we were actually friends again. Or at least it seemed that way and i didn't focus on that little tug at the back of my brain. but felt like it was a year ago when we both knew talking to each other would only lead to awkwardness and stress. except now i know that my fault. you should never go to the beach w/the boy you're in love with.

i saw you go off w/those two girls w/tits bigger than my head and i couldn't...didn't even bother to...hide my bitterness. and the mere fact that i actually worried that you would like those girls based on a boob-to-body ratio is further proof that you've started THE CHANGE as well and i should just forget about you. what's next? pornstar shirts and sparkling white shoes?

and, yes, i noticed how you strayed away from the fact that the tattoo on your leg is from a nirvana song. you were just so goddamn happy that a girl w/mammary glands that'd make a cow jealous was questioning your shitty juvenile tattoos. i just sat there, lighting one cigarette off the other and boycotting sunscreen. i've loved a boy for three years...sunburn doesn't scare me.

and after a few hours of that shit, i left w/out saying goodbye. HA...i don't care enough to bid you well parting. i felt powerful for a little bit then i heard a blondie song you made me play over and over again. and even though it was a pain in the ass cuz i have no rewind button on my tape deck, i still did it. for you. for fucking YOU. yeah...that song...i was reminded of that and i wanted so bad to just shrink to the size of the sand in my shoes and be swept out somebody's door.

these words are my only hope and i have to hit my typewriter to get it to start. what's next? are my hands going to get cut off? is my mouth going to be sewn shut? am i going to go blind from overexposure to the sun in a desperate attempt to get vitamin which is supposed to make you happy?

i don't know what will happen. all i know is now that pain i get in my back from typing w/out my glasses is starting to bother me...and i want another cigarette."

Oh, how I loved me some ellipses. Christ, I'm glad I've gotten better.

Anyway, it's funny how 'the more things change, the more they stay the same.'

And I still don't have a rewind button on my tape deck.

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