i reach out again, for that feeling
no one knew me when i was coming up
walking towards the portable with a boy there waiting for me
sitting on the train with the new bon iver record on my ipod, feeling cool,
because finally something i liked was, actually, cool
making myself cry because i assumed i should,
watching daria with a coffee at midnight
smoking behind the shed with my best friend
screaming and crying into a bale of hay, pathetic but i loved it,
curling up on the rich kid's couch, rolling my eyes into instant coffee in the light
only thing was that eating disorder red alert that i loved to ignore
calculating the calories in the shots i had the night before
so i could run them off to the number
fuck that show skins, we used to watch it and imitate, fuck cassie,
inpatient me please!! let me just fuck myself completely up first!
that sunburn on my neck on new year's morning.
that was the last i ever saw of you people.
and i wasn't afraid, i thought i was
i wasn't sad, i thought i was
i walk down southbank so soon again with glasses and superstars and i feel so sad and
i wonder if the sadness will keep ageing like it has the last six years
will i get sadder? will it get harder?
likely!
will i always tilt my head just so and ask all those questions and touch people on the arm and look down my nose at chance and love and still run away like i have only ever done? every single time???????
likely!
will i always have that rural tic, suburban heart,
know what road to take if we get swallowed up in flames?
absolutely
i think about those things when i sponge my face
i think about those things with my skin between my teeth
well i don't know what YOU guys are doing tonight but i am going to have a SKYY Blue
swallow,
feel that stupid fucking hay beneath my hands
drop it and reach out again
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