God, when I'm hormonal I'm intolerable. I talked to Jon tonight. Why? Because it always sucks, and leaves me less satisfied than I'd managed to crawl back up to before I fell for my own weakness.
We talked about a myriad of things, lined with hope but mostly about how different we really are. He with his orderly virgo life full of schedules and obligations and me with my free spirit aquarian do-you-own-thing-itis and the combined fear we have of the opposite. Yet still somewhere underneath all that there is the stupid thread that binds us. I suspect that I'm about to have my regularly scheduled female time, so really there probably is no point, but we talked about naming our dead baby, should it come to that. How romantic. He even suggested a song for the topic and, who knew, there's actually one that fits:
Emmure - Rusted Over Wet Dreams
No words could ever describe the feeling.
The feeling of holding onto your ghost.
But if there's just one more thing I could ask you.
Just one more request.
Please don't ever forget me.
No, don't you ever forget.
Everyday it's getting harder just to turn the page.
I keep replaying and reciting those mistakes you made.
And I'm trying to take my own advice.
That things will change.
But who am I kidding?
I'm so afraid.
That things will change.
I want you to know how it feels.
To be in love with the ghost that bears your name.
Know that my love was not in vein.
And I'm trying to take my own advice.
That things will change.
But who am I kidding?
I'm so afraid.
That things will change.
But if there's one regret we can share.
What shall we name him?
WHAT SHALL WE NAME OUR DEAD SON!
Nice right? Very romantic. This is just about the height of where it goes for me at the moment, regret and impossible dead dreams. Here's hoping that the dreams Tommy and I spin win and there is something much more fulfilling in my future. Till then I think I'm going to try a little harder and keep it all together.
