"i find myself in a very familiar situation. i'm gonna need to not know this feeling as well as i do. and to stop wasting the fluid stored in my body forming teardrops for things i'm tired of crying over. things i've got no control over. so i won't. i cried when i was twenty and she couldn't be with me. i cried at twenty-five when it wasn't working between us. i cried at twenty-seven because i didn't understand why we weren't together. now i'm thirty and i'm sick of bloodshot eyes and headaches.
yea, everybody's got a story, whatever they've been through to get where they are. everybody. but my story reads with soap opera predictability. i like her, i want her, something happens, some more shit, then she's gone and i'm balding myself. "quote machine" oscar wilde said, "every saint has a past and every sinner has a future". so i say this. "fuck piety, the shedding of tears is for martyrs and i won't be stoned again." sufferer? i have been. but that past is done. sinner though? no, not me. but be the dude i've been? i can't do it anymore. lisa lisa and the cult jam. i'm all cried out.
i wonder who cries over me? 'cause i remember being twenty, and we weren't crying then, i was crying. i remember being twenty-five and twenty-seven, being alone when i wet up the pillow. did she cry knowing she hurt me? i wonder. did she cry when we couldn't try anymore? i ask myself. did she cry because she missed my touch? who knows? i don't. but that past is done too. my future is now. and kleenex-free."
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