trick's livejournal

Old Friends Are Golden

No matter how hard I try, I already know the outcome to everything. My life is the most broken record out there, each day the same. Today, happened twice before already, maybe that's why I'm not wasting any tears. It hurts, but I know too much to know it's history. I'll think about you now and then, but I'll try not to waste my breath. You were great, and maybe this whole thing is my fault. You had your cons, the ones that made me want to hate myself even more. Maybe one day, I will grow up and face my fears, but I'm just a kid, let me stay that way. You won't see this, unless you truly care, but I'll write anyways. Hopefully this is the only thing I write about you, I wouldn't want to waste my breath if you aren't wasting yours. I'm sorry for being such a problem for you, hopefully I'm out of your hair for good. You were good, until you weren't. It's not your fault I got bored, and realized all the broken parts you confidently flaunt. Now I just sound like you, an asshole. I didn't think this day would ever come, until the tracks started to skip, and I knew it was over. I tried to hold on, but every record has to be thrown out eventually. I hope you see this, or someone shows you. I'm sorry if I ruined everything you stand for. I really need to stop apologizing, huh? I should stop writing all together before this becomes an autobiography. Until another fork is thrown in the road.

-Trickster

written 9/29/24