The AOL Sessions Theory Of Sadness and Poignancy

Is this how it’s going to be now? Futility, desolation, seeing nothing as it is while we’re staring right in front of it? Are our egos worth all these pointless fights? Am I being self righteous or are you protecting yourself from the hurt of a selfish person only a few months ago? Are these broken promises justified as my break stuff streak wears thin? Or is it just another one of those days where it all falls back down to simple ‘you suck get out of my life I hate you you shit fucking shit fuck you nothing great I hate you I hate you I hate you you don’t care you fucking mortal we need a break I don’t love you anymore its different fucking shit you make me puke your voice makes my skin crawl you’re useless its not cup noodles I don’t want this I hate you you never know what I want you never buy me anything anyway its not like you buy me things occasionally I feel so different from other girls and their boyfriends im young and I want to enjoy being lavished upon I want more from this I don’t want to grow up not having fun and being treated like a teenager I never see you and me going far anymore you worm you never know what I want anyway I’m leaving you goodbye’ anger phases again.

This is nothing but a reminder how its costing us our love for each other. This isn’t about who is the winner or who is more pro or who is right or wrong. It’s an apology, an honest apology from a lover to a lover, for everything you have said which in its own way has or may have been true. I have never ever once been close to perfect; more garage bin disposable waste category than your average fly on the wall decoration piece. I really am sorry to have failed you again and again and again just like they said I would. I’m sorry. I sleep the night with thoughts running through my head wondering, praying and negotiating how I can right the wrong, how I can erase the thoughtlessness of actions and the stupidity of my past.

We aren’t long; we’re not even a third movement of the bat of an eyelid in the time space of a long loving lasting relationship we often hear of and laud about. We’re still trying to iron out the creases, to try to seamlessly patch up the torn pieces of cloth in our hands isn’t it?

We have to try at least. If it isn’t worth our time; be it long or short then what’s it worth?

I still hurt.

Like a normal person. I still bleed when the glass crudely cuts the flesh in jagged patterns; it stings when the palm strikes across my cheek or when my skull is pushed against the wall. The heart does ache when the tears stream down and the muffled sobs of an infant sound.

How can we even stand anymore, let alone stare at the sun if we let our demons get the best of us? Give it / us / this / a chance, give the possibility and the transitions of time in our youth and maturing years a chance because we don’t want to look at the future and regret this ever happened. I know we will see through the dark futile skeleton closet days and you know it too; you’ve said it so yourself despite retracting those words in anger. All I want is for you to stitch me when I bleed, caress me when I’m ill, hold me when I cry and kiss me when I sleep for I will do the same for you if not more. I’m taking this and holding it up strong and proud, to lead this and show you this isn’t a game or ploy. This is as Richie Edwards painfully craved; 4 Real. To quote Ozzy in his smartest ever lyric from back in 95; I don’t need much, I just want you.

There are no incurable ills
There are no unkillable thrills
There are no unachievable goals
There are no unsaveable souls
There are no indisputable truths
And there ain't no fountain of youth
Each night when the day is through,
I don't ask much, I just want you