Cuiriosity

You know, if I wan't so picky, I [think] I'd be a lot happier.

By why the fuck am I complaining. For every time I've felt alone, for every time I've felt just too damned different, for every time there has been that urge to scream "Nobody will ever understand!" there is now this girl. We exchanged poetry last night, for chrissake. For whatever strange reason, we've been brought together only so far enough as to be held apart. Its like picking up a puppy so it can smell the bacon on the stove, but holding the thing inches away, no matter how much he struggles or whines, so the odor invades his nostrils, the scent driving him wild with how much he wants it.

And there it sits. Just out of reach.

We're just two lost souls swimmin in a fish bowl, year after year.

I wonder if that's a "We are," or a "We were."