Diary

I heard Creep by Radiohead on the radio today. I smiled the entire time it played, mainly because it reminded me of the good times that we actually had. When we were really happy, really stupid, and really crazy. Back when nothing was wrong, and things were actually okay.

It was one of the first songs you tried to play on your guitar, but you didn’t know the cords or tabs. It was alright because you sing better than you play. 

“This song will always remind me of you,” you puffed on a cigarette as we laid in your bed.

“Why?” I was blushing like a maniac. Crimson never looks good on me.

“Because…just listen to the words.”

The tape was played over and over again, until you wanted to try it on your old guitar. I didn’t really pay attention to the words until you began to sing them.

“When you were here before/Couldn't look you in the eye/You're just like an angel/Your skin makes me cry/You float like a feather/In a beautiful world/I wish I was special/You're so fucking special,” The cords were all wrong, but you sang it right. 

I felt my skin heat up, the biting of my bottom lip almost bled. My stomach tossed, it was the most amazing and unusual feeling in the world. I guessed it was how you felt about me, one of your ways of showing me affection without saying those words.

When I hear this song, I miss you. I miss the old you, actually. I don’t, won’t, care for the “new” you. I don’t like what we’ve become.

At times, I wish Roxy could see how we use to be. How fun we were; I wish we had video tapes or more pictures. I want to show her life wasn’t all that bad before you left.

Could I say our life was perfect before? No, it wasn’t, but it was a lot more carefree. 

When we made all these big life decisions, it took away that carefree feeling, but we shouldn’t have let it slip away. 

I blame myself, too, Gerard, just so you know. I blame the fact that I became so depressed and scared about growing up that I let it take over my love of writing. Instead of finding jobs, and being a pissy brat about everything, I should have wrote. I could have put out amazing things, stories and some weird adventures to show Roxy. But, being stubborn and bitchy, I stopped. I stopped for no good reason, other than I let growing up bring me down.

Maybe you had it right the entire time. Maybe you needed to get away to reevaluate what makes you happy, and I shouldn’t blame you. I now only blame you for not telling me. I wish you would’ve told me, straight out, that you weren’t happy.

You said you weren’t happy once, and that didn’t give me any sign that you would take off and leave. You had said your job didn’t make you happy, but whose job makes them happy? No one has a great job, unless they’re doing what they love.

So…a part of me is forgiving you; but just a little, because I realized that I was stupid about being bitter. I was stupid about being upset, when I should have done what you did: Reevaluate everything, and try and bring us back into a happy fold. Given, LuLu will bring some challenges, but I know I can handle it. I’ll keep writing, keep trying to publish something, and keep working. It’ll happen someday, I know that, as long as I don’t give up.