Boston

A town in Massachusetts where one of my best friends grew up. (She's the most normal person I've ever met that's from Massachusetts.) Also a song by some band called Augustana that I should really, really stop listening to.

It's sad as shit and makes me want to cry. It's not really in the lyrics so much as it's in the music. It's beautiful and awful.

It makes it sound so hopeful that moving would make me feel better. But I know from experience that this isn't true. Sure, it can help a lot (i.e. my emigration from Delaware). But your demons are extremely travel-compatible, and, unlike Kevin McCallister, are impossible to leave behind. So it doesn't really matter.

I wish it was that simple. I wish moving cross-country would fix me. I'm exhausted and I hate thinking that maybe nothing will ever be able to make it any better. This song just makes me think about all that. Why do I torture myself?

_________


Last night I was laying in bed and was hit suddenly by this awful wave of missing sleeping with you. I just wanted so badly for you to appear and crawl into bed next to me and for everything that's happened the past couple months to just be erased. Then I cried and tried to stick myself with a safety pin. It was supposed to be this combined accomplishment of physical pain ('cause I'm so fucking sick of being so hurty on just the inside) and my eighth-grade-science-fair desire to poke a whole in my swollen knee to see if fluid will spray out or not. But in the end I pretty much failed and felt bad about myself. Wah wah.

I've been rehearsing what to say to you. I wish you'd just apologize. I have two speeches, one for each outcome (friends or not friends?), but they both feel so inadequate. I hate hate hate this whole thing. I hate losing you even more. I loved you crazy hard. Maybe too hard.

Blah.