Weathered.

12/5/06
The notes from hearing Chris from that familiar and strangely-popular band, Coldplay danced in his ears. The thoughts and memories of that one person that he treated like shit because she wasn’t beautiful enough or even thin enough. The feeling of walking down the desolate road towards his farmhouse from the illuminated campus in his background bringing clear pearls from his eyes. Black pupils were now prevalent were there once were bright brown eyes. The first chords of the piano in the song “Trouble” reminding him of how much trouble he had been to everyone who had ever loved him. The thought of wanting to just get up and jump off the edge of the two-story balcony outside his room became more evident. But, he repressed this thought for he knew that his family and friends would need him eventually. Even if not now; eventually they would need him.
Peering back and forth, forward and backward throughout his room in the dim light of the 5:24 evening, he realized something that he hadn’t before ever in his life. He had never felt so low ever, and he began to question why he was feeling low now. “Oh…never mind…I know why,” he replied to himself as the first haunting cords of his favorite band, Chevelle’s song, “Closure” began to play in the background. Hearing this song helped him realize that he had destroyed any kind of relationship with anyone that truly gave a shit about him. Any great soul of a woman in his life, he couldn’t realize how much of a jewel had stood in his presence. He would find ways of sabotaging their interaction. But then in return, months later with another female he cared for more, he would treat her subconsciously better than he had the one that gave a fuck about him in the first place. Karma would then bite him in the ass for hurting the previous girl that cared for him by the current female pulling some kind of a stunt to sabotage their friendship/relationship/whatever you want to call it.
“Do I ever cross your mind…anytime/ do you ever wake up reaching out for me?” he swayed back and forth remembering the one he shouldn’t have left. The remaining minutes of “Anytime” by Brian McKnight pushing him more into the reason why he sat in his room alone in the first place. “I miss you….I miss you…I miss you.”