have you ever listened so hard that you knew exactly what they were saying? what they were saying was so true, it scared you? there was an unrelenting air of realism. only, that realism came with a lack of hope...

it didn't start that way, though. the story started with a love. with a girl probably. you would sit and stare into her eyes, and she'd quietly ask, "what?"... but she already knew the answer to that. she just wanted to make sure it wasn't a dream. and you were glad she made it clear that it wasn't. then you probably brushed her hair aside and kissed her.

but this isn't about kisses. this is about perfect. god damn perfect.

it doesn't exist.

that's just a moment. you told her she was perfect, and she was. she was perfectly flawed. maybe you even said it to her, "what i love about you is that you're NOT perfect." but you know you didn't mean it. you thought she was perfect.

that was the first downfall. the first moment that she would never be able to live up to again. and neither would you. that was the breaking point. the place where all of your inadequacies were caught, fighting to break free, and you foolishly tried to shove them back in their hole.

it's funny how this moment we all strive for is the moment that eventually kills us. the moment we look back on and say, "what ever happened to those days?"

"you can't stay mad at the setting sun, because we all get tired, i mean, eventually there is nothing left to do but sleep..."

i sit here shaking, unexpectedly. i've been doing that a lot lately. i hope it's some disease rather than pent up anxiety. because i can't handle it. i've come into a large realization of the truth lately, and i hate it. i hate the truth. i hate what it does to me. hopelessness. helplessness.

"i sat watching a flower as it was withering. i was embarrassed by it's honesty..."

this is all a lack of simplicity. THAT is what i strive for now. simplicity. no expectations. i've been fighting a long hard battle with my expectations. i believe this is what prevents love. this is the evil. and it's an evil that is entirely human. entirely expected. expectations are expected.

"i'd like to make some changes before you arrive. so when your new eyes meet mine, they won't see no lies. just love."

really, i do. i want to believe that this is all for the greater good. these marks that are left on my face, they've pushed away the many, and held close the few. but i can't help but think of the many. so many. do the few make up for the many?

that question isn't even relevant. they're all in the same place. there is enough room. i promise. i'll make room. even if i burst. not like i haven't before. and all those that trickle out my eyes, i'll catch in my hands... maybe keep it in a glass next to my bed...

"so i would like to be remembered as a smiling face and not this fucking wreck that's taken it's place."

whatever did happen to all those good days? did they ever really exist? even though it felt like complete happiness, it seems like a lie now... or, maybe it seemed too real. too god damned perfect. now it seems wrong. you call yourself foolish as if you were a different person back then. as if those nights you stayed up late thinking about her weren't justified. "how could i be so stupid?"

i'll let you in on a secret: you're still stupid. in the best way. in the way that you're willing to sacrifice the reality of her defects just to experience perfect love.

but i say: it wasn't a lie. you smiled, you were happy. there was once a time. but expectations ruined that.

i think you're ready. i think you're ready to go out there and make a complete fool out of yourself. without that, what else is there? if you found exactly what you were looking for, where would you go from there? if they looked at you and expected that you already knew what you were doing, how could you ever surprise them? nobody listens without surprise.

surprise. you're new again.