and 
now
to
me
there
are 
just
songs.

“I’m not different. I’m not arty like everyone says who doesn’t know me, I don’t paint, I can’t draw, I play no instrument, I can’t sing. I’m not in plays, I wanted to say, I don’t write poems. I can’t dance except tipsy at dances. I’m not athletic, I’m not a goth or a cheerleader, I’m not treasurer or co-captain. I’m not gay and out and proud, I’m not that kid from Sri Lanka, not a triplet, a prep, a drunk, a genius, a hippie, a Christian, a slut, not even one of those super-Jewish girls with a yarmulke gang wishing everyone a happy Sukkoth. I’m not anything, this is what I realized to Al crying with my hands dropping the petals but holding this too tight to let go. I like movies, everyone knows I do—I love them—but I will never be in charge of one because my ideas are stupid and wrong in my head. There’s nothing different about that, nothing fascinating, interesting, worth looking at. I have bad hair and stupid eyes. I have a body that’s nothing. I’m too fat and my mouth is idiotic ugly. My clothes are a joke, my jokes are desperate and complicated and nobody else laughs. I talk like a moron, I can’t say one thing to talk to people that makes them like me, I just babble and sputter like a drinking fountain broken. My mother hates me, I can’t please her. My dad never calls and then calls at the wrong time and sends big gifts or nothing, and all of it makes me scowl at him, and he named me Minerva. I talk shit about everybody and then sulk when they don’t call me, my friends fall away like I’ve dropped them out of an airplane, my ex-boyfriend thinks I’m Hitler when he sees me. I scratch at places on my body, I sweat everywhere, my arms, the way I clumsy around dropping things, my average grades and stupid interests, bad breath, pants tight in back, my neck too long or something. I’m sneaky and get caught, I’m snobby and faking it, I agree with liars, I say whatnot and think that’s some clever thing. I have to be watched when I cook so I don’t burn it down. I can’t run four blocks or fold a sweater. I make out like an imbecile, I fool around foolishly, I lost my virginity and couldn’t even do that right, agreeing to it and getting sad and annoying afterward, clinging to a boy everyone knows is a jerk bastard asshole prick, loving him like I’m fucking twelve and learning the whole of life from a smiley magazine. I love like a fool, like a Z-grade off-brand romantic comedy, a loon in too much makeup saying things in an awkward script to a handsome man with his own canceled comedy show. I’m not a romantic, I’m a half-wit. Only stupid people would think I’m smart. I’m not something anyone should know. I’m a lunatic wandering around for scraps, I’m like every single miserable moron I’ve scorned and pretended I didn’t recognize. I’m all of them, every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. I’m not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing. I’m a blemished blemish, a ruined ruin, a stained wreck so failed I can’t see what I used to be. I’m nothing, not a single thing. The only particle I had, the only tiny thing raising me up, is that I was Ed Slaterton’s girlfriend, loved by you for like ten secs, and who cares, so what, and not anymore so how embarrassing for me. How wrong to think I was anyone else, like thinking grass stains make you a beautiful view, like getting kissed makes you kissable, like feeling warm makes you coffee, like liking movies makes you a director. How utterly incorrect to think it any other way, a box of crap is treasures, a boy smiling means it, a gentle moment is a life improved. It’s not, it isn’t, catastrophic to think so, a pudgy toddler in a living room dreaming of ballerinas, a girl in bed star-eyed over Never by Candlelight, a nut thinking she is loved following a stranger in the street. There is not a movie star walking by, is what I know now, don’t follow her thinking so, don’t be ridiculously wrong and dream of an eighty-ninth birthday party celebrating feebleminded smattering ignorance. It’s gone. She died a long time ago, is the real truth of what slayed me in my chest and head and hands forever. There are no stars in my life. When Al dropped me home, exhausted and raw, to climb out over the garage and realize it all over again crying alone, there weren’t even stars in the sky. The last of the matches was the only light, all I had, and then those, those you gave me you bastard, those were dead and nothing too.”

IF I GAVE IT ALL TO SOMEONE ELSE INSTEAD, WOULD YOU PACK YOUR BAGS AND GET OUT OF MY HEAD?

I'M ONLY LEFT WITH USED'S-TO-BE AND ONCE UPON A SONG.

I thought you felt it too, when there was me and you.

Look at you, look at me, look at who we could be. I wonder why, who you are, what you want from the stars. And EVERYTIME I LOOK AT YOU I CAN HARDLY SAY THING, my heart start to spin and hits me then I love you. And everytime YOU LOOK AT ME I could go c r a z y but i don't say it but I won't , cause I'd rather be ALONE than LOSE YOU. 
AND ALL I REALLY WANNA DO IS BE NEXT TO YOU BUT I'M TOO TIRED TO FIGHT and I could tell you now, but baby nevermind. All the time, e v e r y d a y, there's nothing I could do baby, to make you go away, so look at you and look at me, look at who we could be and eveytime I look at you I can h a r d l y say a thing, my heart start to spin and hits me then I LOVE YOU. And everytime you look at me I COULD GO CRAZY, but I don't say it,  but I won't cause I'd rather be alone than lose you. And all I really wanna do is be next to you but I'm too t i r e d to fight and I could tell you now but baby nevermind. All I really wanna say is I NEED YOU, But how could you u n d e r s t a n d, what happens if you turn away and everything turns blue and gray, and I just wish I told you NEVERMIND. And I could tell you now, but baby nevermind.

how about no.

Yesteday I found out about you

even now just looking at you

FEELS WRONG.

Dicen que para olvidarte tengo que viajar a Marte,  hacer 300 años de terapia  y decidir dejar que pase el mes de Abril. Juntar todas las hojas del otoño. Dicen que para olvidarte hay que tener en el bolsillo  un almanaque sin domingos, un crucero y navegar en un océano sin mar, tomarse toda el agua de la lluvia. Y en realidad hay cosas que no voy a olvidar como tus ojos de soledad, la tarde que los hice llorar. Y escucho voces dentro de mi casa, a veces pienso que es tu fantasma. Tus amenazas, mis escapadas, retrato de mi clandestinidad.  Dicen que juntando cuatro patas de conejo con sal gruesa, y repitiendo ante el espejo, voy a olvidar, tal vez yo pueda deshacer el nudo que nos ata en este hechizo.  Dicen que del día en que te fuiste, no hago mas que despedirte, inventándome un presente para sentir que estoy haciendo algo por mi, construyo sobre arenas movedizas .Y en realidad, hay cosas que no quiero olvidar como tus ojos de soledad la tarde que los hice llorar y escucho voces dentro de mi casa, a veces pienso que es tu fantasma, tus amenazas,  mis escapadas, retrato de mi clandestinidad. Si no te olvido, dicen que puede doler mucho más de lo que duele. Cuando te tengo en mi memoria, estás acá.

And you're that wind that swept me off my feet, got me flying till I'm crying and I'm down on my knees.-

Yo podría haberlo hecho mejor, vos podrías acercarte a mí. Yo intuía que esto mi amor, se rompía y esto es siempre así. La verdad es que todo fue tan extraño, tan extraño al fin. Yo buscando el polvo de dios, vos bebías para irte de aquí. Cada vez que pienso en VOS, fue a m o r, fue AMOR. Todo el mundo me habla de vos, y no puedo dejar de reír. Lo que hacés y adonde vas, de tu depto siempre a Prix d´ami. NO ESTÁ BIEN ROMPER UN CORAZÓN, Déjà vu de lo que va a venir. Vos querías verme feliz, yo quería verte revivir. Cada vez que PIENSO EN V O S, fue amor, fue amor.

Remembering him comes in flashbacks, in echoes, tell myself it’s t i m e n o w .  GOTTA LET GO. But moving on from him is impossible when I still see it all in my head, b u r n i n g r e d, loving him was red.

and you throw your head  back

laughing like a little kid, 

I think it's STRANGE that y o u

think I'M F U N N Y  cause he never did.

Life gave me the chance, but I don't wanna take it. 

You've got your dumb friends, I know what they say, they tell you I'm difficult but so are they. But they don't know me. Do they even know you? All the things you hide from me, all the shit that you do, you were all the things I thought I knew.

I threw all of your SHIT away then I clear you out off my head, i tear you off of my heart  and ignore all your messages. I told everyone we're through cause I'M SO MUCH BETTER WITHOUT YOU but it's just another pretty lie cause i break down everytime you come around. So, how did you get here under my skin, swore that i'd never let you back in, should've known better

then trying to let you go cause here we go go go again. Hard as I try i know i 

can't quit,   something about YOU is  so addictive, we're falling together, you'd think that by  now i know, cause here we go go go again.

I used to think one day I'd tell the story of us, how we met and the sparks fly instantly  and people would think they're the lucky ones = Locked up in your arms and our friends were laughing cause nothing like this, ever happen to them = I keep going with our old friends just to ask them how you are ( i can still feel your arms ). 






Esto de analizar a Taylor, de que sus canciones me identifiquen tanto y que encima descubra que son todas para Joe trauma.

c'mon c'mon don't leave me like this, i thought i had you figure out. Something's gone terribly wrong, WON'T FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED. c'mon c'mon don't leave me like this, i thought i had you figure out, can't breathe whenever you're gone, can't turn back now I'M HAUNTED.

You said that you could let it go and I wouldnt catch you hung up on somebody that YOU used to know.

if you ask me,  if i loved him, I'd lie.