Wake Up

What to say...

I have no idea any more.
Things get tossed and turned so much, so quickly. Things go from good to bad and without warning, and the nights where days were so bright turn so dark, the warmth that was turns cold so abruptly, that one must wonder if sadness such as this is the price which must be paid for the elation we seek.

I hate hearing from her. I hate that she calls me, however infrequently. I hate it because, for however much I beat myself up over the mistakes that pushed us apart forever, it's one thing for me to do it, and another entirely to come from her. Every word she speaks to me, howoever innocent, is a stab in a wound I've spent years trying to let heal, tried to stop licking. Finally, at at time when I'm prepared to leave this past behind, I'm called forth once again to stand before my tainted past and be called to judgement for sins long past, but not forgotten.
I wish Cole would have just called me tomorrow, told me about it in retrospect, rather than now. The last thing I need echoing in my head as I try to put the events of today together is her voice, haunting me.

I spent last night, and most of today, with a girl who amazes me. A girl over whom I'm pretty much head over heels. I can't recall feeling this happy around someone in a long, long time. I went today to watch her skydive, since I couldn't afford to do it myself, and it was awesome. We drove around in perfect weather with the top to her Cabriolet down smoking cigarettes and listening to DIsturbed, and System of a Down, and all I could do was smile. Seeing her that happy could have only that effect.

I went to see Corpse Bride tonight, with Brigitte, and the whole time all I could think of was that I wished it were her. We came back to my house, and she said she needed a place to stay because she lives in Hillsboro, and has an appointment here in the morning. But, when she asked me to cuddle with her a while, I told her that I really feel strongly about this girl, and that it wouldn't be right. She told that if she had known that I felt that way she wouldn't have asked either to cuddle or to stay the night, and left. I probably would have handled that a little better if I weren't in the middle of listening to Liesl's drunken anctics on the phone. I didn't think she was making a pass at me, though that's how she took my reaction. Actually, to be completely accurate, I was trying to have a civil conversation with her friend who apparently thinks very, very poor of me, after having met me at a particularly low point in a part of my past which is long dead in me. I resent deeply that I was called essentially for the sole purpose of making me feel like shit, and reminding me that there are those who will never allow my past to be seperate from my present.

It does, however, amuse me that when she, in the background while I spoke to Cole, figured out that I was with someone, immediately wasn't so eager to speak to me anymore. I asked to talk to her when Cole and I were done talking, and she was pretty quiet, and suddently needed to get off the phone. I will assume, for the sake of humility, that it was because they had arrived home and needed to tend to her boyfriend, but, I will nonetheless speculate that her interest in whether her call was interrupting something private between Brigitte and I was reflected in her interest in getting off the phone with me as well.

But, alas, it's not for me to speculate, and my interpretation is merely a reflection of my desire to think that somewhere, in her new life and her happiness that the pain which pours from tender, puckered, freshly re-opned scars is not entirely foreign to her either.

Should I feel happy that nights like these are once in 6 months, rather than a daily thing? Should I be thankful she is in my past? I mean, for all the pain and introspection my...conversations...with her bring about, shouldn't I be happy that I've managed to put such a distance between us? I don't call her and try to make her feel bad. I don't ever, ever talk to her about my love life, because I know the kind of hurt it causes to hear about it from her. I try to pay her that respect. But clearly, it's one she's not willing to pay in return. Is she trying to get me to say something? To stab back? I won't do it. I've grown too much to do that. I can't be so beaten by my past that I'd be reduced to cheapshots like that. I want to think I'm more mature than that.

I'm going to ride this plane out of your life again.
I wish that I could've stayed but you argued.
More than this I wish you could've seen my face
In the backseat staring out the window.

I'll do anything for you,
Kill anyone for you.

So leave yourself intact
'Cause I will be coming back.
In a phrase to cut these lips,
I love you.

The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
Until you decide to wake up.

I earned through hope and faith
The curves around your face
That I'm the one you'll hold forever.
If morning never comes for either one of us,
Then this I pray to you wherever.

I'll do anything for you.
This story is for you.
('Cause I'd do anything you want me to... for you.)
I'll do anything for you,
Kill anyone for you.

So leave yourself intact
'Cause I won't be coming back.
In a phrase to cut these lips,
I loved you.

The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
Until you decide to wake up.

The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
'Til you decide to wake up.
-"Wake up", Coheed and Cambria