Jack's Twisted Kingdom
the broken glass
I look at her picture, we talk, sparsely if at all. we're constantly in contact, but we say nothing. she's long since moved on, living her life, and all I do, is want to kiss her, and look into those long auburn locks, those light brown eyes, that pale skin. I remember the pics she sent me, which some other guy had taken with his gf, and I go, "fuck" I wish that had been me. but I was then as I am now, terrified of rejection, a rejection that's not unwarranted. love and friendship, no, I do love, but it doesn't burn, not the way it should, not the way it did. but I always imagine it could. we're from two different worlds, and have always been miles and miles apart. but I think about her often. turn by turn, we trudge along, alone, together and yet, far far away. close enough to touch, but still, hours away.
so. I'm here again, in vancouver. looking for a job. it hasn't been going well. I'm not ok, but I do a good job faking. there's nothing I can do. sorry, nothing I am doing, I'd like to be ok, but I'm not, and I really don't know when I will be. But, like all great pragmatists, I compromise, too much perhaps. the people I want to care don't, and the people who do care aren't here to help, and wouldn't know how to even if they were. it's that dichotomy of melancholy coupled with short bursts of ingenious glee. I am a leaf on the wind.
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