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I don't want the truth anymore, because the truth isn't you.
The truth seduced me, it took me further away from you, not far enough apparently, because I still fell back to you. The truth teases me, 'you fell for words, not a face' it claws me in my sleep, it makes itself so easy to avoid. 'You fell for a feeling, a daydream' To let myself stay, remain in this stalemate, where the insides crawl with sin, those of a man who cuffs his sleaves with the layers of broken hearts he promised to love.
It wasn't my intention, consequences to weave itself in such a way that my imagination directed all of it's fears at me, at once, with no warning. The disappointment, that runs down your cheeks, the surface I clasped with mine not long ago, will be unable to even feel my own. It's as though I'm out of sync with the numbness that took over my life, it drags me down deep in it's water, but runs short beneath my chin, so I can tilt my head back and look up the sky, where I can watch the disaster that you call life unfold before me, without being able to reach up and stop it.
I guess what I'm trying to say is FUCK THIS, why do I sound like a fucking English student trying to be a poet, while working a coffee shop part time?
what the f c u k?
Stan tried not to scream too loudly, as he teared the page out of his notebook, ripping it into hundreds of pieces, before attacking it mercilessly with his pen, before throwing the pen across the room and resting his head in his head. "Fuck this" He muttered, leaning back in his chair.
What Stan was up to, I'm not sure he even knew, I think he was attempting some sort of solution to this very, complex issue. Stan hadn't been, the most collected individual, he'd give himself that, but, he wasn't sure what people with a considerably sustainble mental state would've done in this situation.
"You did this" He muttered to himself as he chewed the end of his pen. "You asked for this" Well if you put it like that, he made a fair point, Stan couldn't lie that his desperation, his drive at the start of the year for an interesting tale, may have played in his actions to get himself in this situation.
Stan knew he was about 2/3rds into this disaster, and that there was no way this conflict wouldn't present itself with a solution soon. But Stan also knew, if he let things play out, he couldn't comprehend the consquences. He would lose both, maybe that was what he deserved. Maybe his story was a tradegy.
Please common sense, I know you've been absent my entire life, but please give me an easy solution.
"I told you not to break his heart" Bev said, lying on her back on Stan's bed, her legs leaning on the wall. It wasn't really Bev, she was at Ben's, this was part of his imagination, a coping mechanism. Something to help him "Don't break his heart Stan"
