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i don't know if i can go.
*03.14.03* @ *10:49 a.m.*
i can still laugh about certain things. about peeing in bushes and drinkingdrinkingdrinking until i saw things much clearer. quick reaction times. tough points. all night diners. screaming lyrics to the best songs on the best cds. "awwww, man. only OE?" chain smoking. the smell of inverness. the way your hand drummed on your knee. the way i hit rimshots on my hips. killing cases of busch light on the side of my car. that hill off of 41 that looked like it was a love letter from san francisco. staring at myself in the gas station mirrors. driving around with one leg folded into the seat with the windows down. "hold the wheel. i have to light my cigarette." false promises. pseudo-dreams. "you're number three." mickey's. "i want to be the one person you tell all of your secrets to." middle fingers. i 75. driving really fast away from pinellas to getthefuckaway and driving really slow on the way back to spend as much time with you as possible. jumping in puddles. dripping tears. "your punches have a tendency to linger on my face." "not punches. just my fingers. you have a soft face." smashing fists against the dash. "hold still. you have an eyelash riiiight there." maybe one day, we'll be on good enough terms to say, "remember the time..." because i know you do, and i hope your heart hurts as much as mine does when you have a clearer recollection of what was sacrificed for your dishonesty...