Dismissal Of The Dismal

  Man, I'm so self conscious that I'm hardly conscious of anything else at all. Everything is about me in some way or another and I could've sworn, I'm not needed, or wanted, when things get brighter and people get happier. Man, I'm good for a sad time.


The angry shouting in the street and storming out, the slamming of doors I pay to live in. Yeah, I opened my window to listen in, it's nice to be a part of something. To think back in this strange almost jovial way, to a time where I cared enough for the theatrics myself. I reflect fondly, to waking up with a smile on my young face. I'm not good at this relationships thing any longer. My emotions are all skewed, and I was crying in that movie theater thinking about how ghosts can be more real than those we surround ourselves with. I didn't cry at the airport, I am empty. Remembering when I dropped you at the airport once long ago, you spoke, "I won't see you for a very long time." I probably never saw you again. Yes, everything is about you.