Long Days and Longer Nights

"i would break down at your feet and beg forgiveness, plead with you.."

Two hundred twenty six miles one hundred seventy two minutes and a half a tank later, I'm still on 95, at least a half hour from home. It's been a long day. The radio isn't helping. I figured at this hour, there's gotta be some college station getting the shaft. Someone who will be able to give me what I want. Clear up my mind. Distract me a little bit. I need Elliott Smith, but I'm getting Robert. I need depressing, I'm getting depressed. Friday I was in love, and now it's not reciprocated. It's the thing you see on TV. The thing that I saw on TV, with you, and laughed at any guy who acts like that, but look who's laughing now, right?

It's the conversation that bothers me the most, I think. Every single word - every syllable - I have it all down. It's engraved in my mind and it's all I can hear. You. We can't act like this anymore. Me. I know. And then I paused. I was hoping you'd agree. You said nothing. Me. I know baby. And then I paused again, but a shorter pause. Me. It's gonna be okay. You. What is? Me. We are. We're gonna be okay. You. But we aren't. We can't be. How can we be okay if we act like this? I can't do this if this is okay. Things aren't okay. We're not okay. This isn't okay. And then I didn't say anything because it hit me the same time it hit you. I looked at you and saw that you understood, and you turned your head away in shame. Your word choice was perfect - we can't act like this. We can't act. Listen to us; we're so scripted and typical. Everything neither of us ever wanted to be. We're not made for acting, and I have no idea what we're doing wrong. Or what I did wrong. Or why me not knowing what was wrong was reason enough for you to get up and tell me to go. Or why you started crying when you told me we couldn't work. Or why you kissed me that last time as your tears rolled down my face. Or why you laughed, or something like it, and said "see, boys don't cry" and you walked away. Or why this song is still on the radio or why your tears are still rolling down my cheek or why I can't handle this. Everything reminds me of her, and that's what I need to hear.

There's nobody around. I notice the needle of the speedometer has passed ninety, and even that is too much. Every time we were in the car, you'd be the one noticing my speed. You were convinced it was dangerous, but I'm convinced that if the guy in front of me slams on his breaks while I'm changing the radio station, I'm gonna get banged up bad if I'm going 65 or 105 and it would take more than a speed limit to save me. It's been a long car ride. I never thought I'd miss you. I never thought I'd have to miss you. But even now, I know it's going to be worse. I know, you aren't going to be the only person I ever care about. You won't be the only person I ever love. It's hard being realistic, and it's hard being optimistic, and I know that I'm eventually going to move on. Right now, I can still remember everything about you. Everything we've ever experienced that wasn't worth talking about, it means something now. But baby, you weren't the first one to cause me to remember things. Yeah, I loved you. Yeah, I still do love you. But I've had less than loves associated with certain songs, or smells, or tastes - and I can hear those things. I smell those things. I taste those things. And I feel nothing more than the sense. That's when it's going to be worse. I don't want to forget you. I don't want the yellow apples to simply be the better ones. I don't want to break one of the prongs off a plastic fork and have it simply be a broken fork. I don't want to hear another Furby and simply think it's annoying. Because once I forget these things, once I can hear, feel, see, taste, smell these things, what will be left of you?

Maybe I took you for granted. I never meant to, but, when we constantly reassure each other that things will work no matter what - that even the biggest mistakes can be forgiven - what was I supposed to do? We were telling each other that no matter how many rights we wrong, it's okay. I won't leave if you won't leave. Now there's no one in the passenger seat. It's never the same as the beginning. We don't have to try to win each other's affection, especially if we know (we're told) it's always going to be there. It's been a long couple of days. I can't stop missing you. I don't want to forget you. If someone asks me about you, I don't want to tell him you're this nice, pretty blonde with hazel eyes that I spent many, many months loving. I don't want you to be a description. I don't want you to sound typical. We're not going to be friends, and I can accept that. But I can't accept being nothings. And I know it has to be one or the other. What am I supposed to do?

I suppose I can start by taking the next highway I can find, and tune into the next station I can get, and see where that leads me.. it's going to be a long night.

Unexpected or Unwanted? Changes

I haven't seen my father in two and a half weeks, which is weird to me. Despite how much or how little I had seen him when he was around, there's still a void that won't be filled for another five and a half months, when he comes back. And I miss him and six months is far too long to wait to see someone you love.

Tonight I came home earlier than I intended to. I said okay, time to go, but instead of saying that I was kidding around, I got up and left. I had a lot on my mind, but when isn't that the case? So I get on 495 and turn on the heat because apparently a mid-August night requires the heat. And it was an annoying ride home because I had to turn it on and off numerous times because on was too hot and off was too cold. "Transatlanticism" was in the CD player, already starting midway through since it's been in there for days. The other day, however, track #10 got quite scratchy and loud and it sounded like my speakers were going to explode so I turned it off. Today, this drive, this CD was perfect for the weather. And then I got to track 10 again. We Looked Like Giants. I was casually listening at first, but as the song went on I felt more involved, I listened more closely. Then that second verse..

God damn the black night, with all its foul temptations
I've become what I always hated, when I was with you then

..that. Everything on my mind, it all just exploded. Right there. My eyes began to swell and I could feel tears, but they wouldn't fall. "I've become what I always hated when I was with you" and it's truth, or ex-truth, was all I could feel. A sort of guilt trying to destroy me, trying to convince me I was the same person I was the first time I heard this song.

In an attempt to distract myself, I looked up into the sky and saw the moon and tried to figure out where it was in relation to the earth and the sun. A half moon.. halfway between new and full. It had to be perpendicular to the sun and parallel with the earth. Or rather, lined up with the earth. Now, I began to wonder, is it approaching fullness or newness? And each time I looked it seemed a little blacker than glowing, so I went ahead and assumed it was turning into a new moon. However, I was incorrect. The right half was glowing, so it was growing full. Before long, the moon was hidden behind the clouds, or the trees, or the traffic, so I stopped thinking about it. By now, "Title and Registration" is playing and I began to think that some gloves may be enough for me to not need the heat on, but before I could continue that thought, Ben Gibbard reminds me that "I am waiting for something to go wrong" and all the thoughts come back at me, because it has reached the point. Something has gone wrong. And the whole time I'm narrating everything that's going on in my head - the outside, the inside, everything - and it makes the music seem quieter than it is.

Speaking of my head, there's something wrong with me. I'm fucked up. The other night - last night? - everything (yeah, it was last night) just started spinning. I got my nightly headache early, got dizzy, and continued reading hoping it would go away. It didn't. Everything was moving around. I have problems that I should probably see a doctor for, but won't.

Back to the car, back to that drive home, whilst narrating, I've decided I'll use this blog for blogging, simply, and not just writing stories and what-not. When I was nearly home, a car coming off the Bellingham exit cut me off and moved into the left lane because the middle lane was moving at a too-slow-75. I moved over into the right lane, having to get off in a minute anyway, and to my surprise the man who just cut me off slid in between two cars in the middle lane and cut me off - again! - got off at my exit, and then headed back towards Bellingham. I don't understand people, and that statement has nothing to do with the previous few sentences. School starts in just over a week and for once, I'm anxious to go back and would rather be there then have to continue this summer. And I'm not trying to say I've hated this summer, but it's completely opposite of what I'd expected - not even what I wanted - and overall, to be completely honest, I'm quite dissatisfied.