And Now I'm Drowning
Waiting to Bloom.
10.31
You just left for Jewel.
It's not the first time you've left me with the kids.
Deffinently won't be the last.
It doesn't make much of a difference to me, it's not like I was planning on doing anything anyway.
Besides, I don't care. You're bringing me back an apple.
I always tell you to bring me something back.
11.03
You're still not back.
I wish I could be doing things the way I'm supposed to.
I should be.
I should be the one sneeking out.
I should be the one making excuses.
I should be the one making stupid decisions that effect today and not tomarrow.
But I'm here.
And I should be calling my friends, telling them you're gone.
I should be inviting them over.
I should be calling that guy that I know is no good for me.
I should be hosting a party, just like I used to.
Back when time had no essence.
Back when friends were my top priority.
Back when I could spend hours playing tag outside, and still try to find a way back out as soon as I come in.
Back when I was living.
Now, I spend countless hours with nothing.
Filling up my so called life with useless shit that I regret just about as soon as I do it.
I see other people's lives and wonder why mine isn't going that way, yet I do nothing to change.
I'm stuck.
I don't know how to get out of my winter.
I've been hibernating for the past two years.
When Is Spring Coming?
12.42
You're still not home.
I sit and wonder how long it takes to go to Jewel.
What other things could you possibly be doing? But I try to ignore those.
I want to call, just to nag.
To let you know I know.
To show you that I'm not okay with this.
To give you some clue as to why I've changed.
I would never have let you treat me like this before.
But I know what you'll say when I call.
And I know I'll say nothing of importance back, so I roll over and make something else of my time.
1.34
You're still not home.
I wonder if you're still at Jewel.
Are you looking for my apple?
I grab my phone and press a button.
You're number flashes on the screen as I slowly debate with myself.
I quietly shut the phone and place it back on the table.
When did I become such a coward?
2.11
You're still not home.
I give up.
I quit.
You win, I'm too tired.
I shut off the t.v., turn down the radio, put away the phone, roll over and go to sleep.
Again.
7.39
You're still not home.
I get up in a rush.
I'm late for school.
Unintentionally and without knowing, I blame you.
Do you do this on purpose?
Is this your way of sending a message?
Why can't you just say me the time, the effort and tell me.
Be a man.
But this coming from me means nothing.
I have no life anymore.
No soul.
My spirit is hibernating. Waiting for spring.
I'm thirsty.
Before I leave I check the counter.
No apple.
There's never an apple.
You just left for Jewel.
It's not the first time you've left me with the kids.
Deffinently won't be the last.
It doesn't make much of a difference to me, it's not like I was planning on doing anything anyway.
Besides, I don't care. You're bringing me back an apple.
I always tell you to bring me something back.
11.03
You're still not back.
I wish I could be doing things the way I'm supposed to.
I should be.
I should be the one sneeking out.
I should be the one making excuses.
I should be the one making stupid decisions that effect today and not tomarrow.
But I'm here.
And I should be calling my friends, telling them you're gone.
I should be inviting them over.
I should be calling that guy that I know is no good for me.
I should be hosting a party, just like I used to.
Back when time had no essence.
Back when friends were my top priority.
Back when I could spend hours playing tag outside, and still try to find a way back out as soon as I come in.
Back when I was living.
Now, I spend countless hours with nothing.
Filling up my so called life with useless shit that I regret just about as soon as I do it.
I see other people's lives and wonder why mine isn't going that way, yet I do nothing to change.
I'm stuck.
I don't know how to get out of my winter.
I've been hibernating for the past two years.
When Is Spring Coming?
12.42
You're still not home.
I sit and wonder how long it takes to go to Jewel.
What other things could you possibly be doing? But I try to ignore those.
I want to call, just to nag.
To let you know I know.
To show you that I'm not okay with this.
To give you some clue as to why I've changed.
I would never have let you treat me like this before.
But I know what you'll say when I call.
And I know I'll say nothing of importance back, so I roll over and make something else of my time.
1.34
You're still not home.
I wonder if you're still at Jewel.
Are you looking for my apple?
I grab my phone and press a button.
You're number flashes on the screen as I slowly debate with myself.
I quietly shut the phone and place it back on the table.
When did I become such a coward?
2.11
You're still not home.
I give up.
I quit.
You win, I'm too tired.
I shut off the t.v., turn down the radio, put away the phone, roll over and go to sleep.
Again.
7.39
You're still not home.
I get up in a rush.
I'm late for school.
Unintentionally and without knowing, I blame you.
Do you do this on purpose?
Is this your way of sending a message?
Why can't you just say me the time, the effort and tell me.
Be a man.
But this coming from me means nothing.
I have no life anymore.
No soul.
My spirit is hibernating. Waiting for spring.
I'm thirsty.
Before I leave I check the counter.
No apple.
There's never an apple.