Thursday, 6 December 2007

Lyrics and legal drugs.

(I'm writing late today, because it's been a long one. I took a dayquil and am borderline narcoleptic so please give me due credit for whatever nonsense you're forced to read next.)

    Sing it for me
    I can't erase the stupid things I say

Jacob and my heart were broken into pieces and everyone got two, one of each:

Joel heads up the professional, what's best for you piece.

Ben is the romantic, the affectionate one. He wields the guitar now.

PJ is the non-procrastinator, the logic. The everyday.

Chris is in bodyguard/secret service mode.

And Caleb is still the devil.

No worries, I didn't give any of my heart to the devil. He just took it and I don't have any pieces left, as I'm sure Jacob swallowed the rest of it right before he stepped off the edge of my world. And if they all get together and try to connect their pieces, they invariably begin to fight over who has the biggest piece, or maybe who has the warmest piece, which piece is the prettiest and which doesn't seem to be part of a heart after all.

Some of them keep trying to destroy their portion. I hate that.

I wish they wouldn't remind me of Jake. I wish they would stop fighting over me. I wish people would stop holding their breath when it comes to Ben. His piece is not larger, or warmer or better than anyone's. There's nothing going on, he's just got open arms and a thorough knowledge of our dear princess so it gives, no, I give him more latitude, I guess. If you want to vilify me for a hug or a cheek-kiss then you're so far off the mark it's not even funny.

I take advantage, as it were. Not the other way around.

Which means that each of those pieces of my heart is lovingly wrapped in yards of misdirected resentment, tied with bows of unease and distrust.