i don't want this to be how it is right now, but it is. and it makes me angry, it pisses me off, it hurts so fucking much, but this is how it is.

and so i want to come here and write stories of things that don't happen to me. i want to write the fairy tale. i want the happy ending to come.

i want the boy to get the damn girl in the end.

and i don't want the girl to hurt again. or ever.

but that's not how it is, not today, not in my real life, not in those stupid moments that hurt me because they're so amazingly perfect, those moments where i smell the honeysuckle, the moments where a little kid stops me to tell me he likes my car and then smiles all shyly and runs away.

there's so much, so many wonderful things and here i am, angry, upset, fucking pissed off because i can i see, i can fucking see it all, the amazingness of my life, the great people and the people who really love me, who care.

but it's all so far away, it's behind the translucent planes of plexiglass that's comprised of all the fucked up things i've done with my life, all the people i've lost, the car wreck that's pissing me off beyond belief, and other such fucking petty little things that don't really matter, and should be behind the sunset that leaves the clouds pink and behind how happy kids get when i stop by their houses.

behind the girl who told me last night, "and i know you're the only friend who would actually be there for me. like, if i called you at three in the morning i know you'd come."

and i sat there across the table from her and knew she was right. that i would go to her if she called.

and i've always been that way with her, for her, and i don't know why. i don't why, almost two years ago, we sat outside of work and talked and i realized i needed to be there for her.

and through it all, i have been there. and i can't say i've done that for many other people. not even kim or emily, there have been times i've failed them, i haven't been there for them.

but this woman, i've been there. i've become poor for her.