It's been a while son. Yes, it's been a hell of a while. My eyes are rolling back, trying to search for the surface so they can breath, and my head is spinning round and round as I try to come up with some lyrics to fit the mood. I'm not willing to try and come up with something smart to say, and I'm not good enough to change the world tonight. I'm not thinking straight; I always think in circles, and besides, who reads this bull shit anyway?
I'm eighteen. So what? I'm broke. Good for me. I'm leaping in the air when I run into the arms of my imaginary boyfriend. I'm fucked and tired and the words are slipping from my mouth. People, people, plop plop plop. I'll never get them, vice-versa. Who the fuck are you anyway? We met last semester, right? Like everyone else. I met the continuation of my past life last session, and here we are, falling back like flowers, like tumble weeds: we're tumbling down. You're PATHETIC, Aesthetik. You're completely stupid and lame. Thank you, Zero, thank you very much. Aren't we the same person? get back to it, okay? You're oh-so diddly fucked. I feel like clapping my hands for jotting down some lame shit like that, fuck-tard. Stop swearing and get to the point! Okay, okay, fine, I will, if ever I find one.
It's alone. It's a couple. A couple of jerks or the flowers on the deathbed? What is? What if? What, where? And how? Shut up, will you? You're confusing the poor virgin eyes of the invisible readers! I don't even understand myself. What we three were, what we'd be, what we're becoming, nothing but confused. I don't really care. Not anymore. Not now, no way. You're snapping at me for no apparent reason, and I'm not trying hard to understand. I've been blinded by innocence last semester, now here I am, back, and pretending that I never noticed we changed. I'm pretending I have better things to do while you pretend to be someone else, unless you really are someone else. To me, you are, and you're pretty good too. And your man-on-a-leash, good for him. I miss him, but I will never say I still feel this way. Because my mind is elsewhere.
I doubt I'll ever have feelings for anyone ever again. Especially like that, never in a lifetime? Love is nothing but a sickening threat, a trap for the weak and the lonely hearted, those who've been dreaming, searching, hoping.. what have you been doing, my fair lady? Well, I wish I got the chance to know you before. I'm a bit afraid that it might be too late, or right now is simply not the time. My mind is elsewhere, my thoughts have flown astray, my eyes are pondering and so is my ass and everything else that's nothing but bullshit to you ears. I don't want to care anymore, and so far, I've been pretty good at stopping this feeling.
No, I am not in love. You're beautiful to my eyes, and that's all I'll ever say. Nobody will know what you really mean to me, unless it slips out, unconsciously. Goodbye, love? It's about time you start to forget.