The Things a Date Will Do To Me

SO I WANTED TO DRAW A PICTURE, BUT I CAME HERE INSTEAD.
And I didn't know what to say, but that I'm afraid to sleep tonight. Why is that? I loved my bed as a child, and as a baby. Now I grow, and think that I may waste time sleeping, lying in wait, or waste, as something could have happened.

So now I'm afraid of more than just that. It's what drives me to write at such a late hour. Who writes what they feel at 1:00 A.M.? What scares me? What is it? I saw the Slender Man outside my house two weeks ago, and I laughed that off, because we all know what that is, and what it isn't. It isn't real. but yet I feel.

It's like I hear this song, and I want to scream. As loud, but mostly as high as I can. Not scream, but screech and shriek and wail. I think of fall, and then it's all coming together. I think of five different bands, and they bring it back to fall. But only one reminds me of what it is that scares me so. . .

It's her. Everything about her seemed so perfect to me, for me! You were perfect, but now that dream is over. You burned it, or did I? That is what scares me. Did I ruin it? Did I leave such potential such beauty to ruin at the avarice of my own hands? Or was I just too awkward to make any damn impressions. I remember many conversations. I'm afraid I said the wrong words, but what do I know?

She asked me how school was, and I said it was shit. I did. And I didn't hold back. Because in my stupid mind, I thought I would sound and look so cool, and I fear that I did the opposite. I cannot impress her. I remember that night. Halloween. And I went with her, trying to do my best to make her happy, but I only let ourselves down to my foolish antics. And then she tells me of some boy in Arizona. Some damned hacker, that is going to be the next government hero; he is going to be some hero and some amazing man. I don't know what I have going for me. . .

What do I have going for me? I've never had a single person tell me that they want to be like me, or with me, or anything about me. I've been told I'm such a great kid. There's that word again. "Great". I don't want just great. Grand. If you want to be grand, do something cool. Oh, how foolish I am, I was. Woe, is me! I never knew what I got myself into, but it was a living hell following her leaving.

I still blame myself. I'm afraid I will never get over this. I tried to turn lust into love, because I felt she deserved so much better. Much better than the average guy who like her just because the way she looked and talked and walked and dressed. She was incredible. What was I? What am I? I am so proud of what I was, once upon a time. Now, I'm stepping down to the average level. Life is progressing, and I'm not ready.

I'm too afraid of change. She left, and that changed way to much. Have I gone lower? I'm so afraid that I am becoming lesser than great, and that's great, not grand. I once was grand. My moment of grandness squandered on pre-adolescent youth. I'm so afraid to go forward, because nothing in the past makes sense. It's like everything has it's own agenda, and only passes through me, unfazed. What will become of me.

I fear I will think like this forever. Metacognition brings to me no small amount of peace. The more I seek, the less I feel is answered because I know a lot of ways to answer, and the digging only makes me go deeper. What became of me? And what of her? She left. She moved away, physically, emotional, mentally. She moved on. She did what I could never have done. What were the last words I said to her?

'Forget It'. Out of context it sounds terrible. But it was us talking about music, and that is the name of a song. Yet, I said Forget It to her, and I fear that it came across all wrong. And now I can only think of it as forget it, no longer in context. What have I done to myself? I nightmare about meeting her again. I nightmare about forever. Will I leave that mark again? My grand moment may never return. Perhaps I'm just to arrogant to realize I'm arrogant, and now I want to be noticed.

I want to say that I'm sorry for going on and on about this. I want to apologize for the language. But what will it do? I was never being negative, only fearful. This is my fear. A fear, and one that never was resolved. I had a dream of another girl that I felt hurt me. I worked it out, but it still doesn't feel right. How will I handle this? How will she? Well, you know what? . .

Forget It