off me chest

How did things get so fucked up, we ask?

There really is no answer to that.

How do you fix it?

Can it even be fixed?

How do you get on with it,

with life, and the possibility 

that the future isn't gonna be too pretty?

You love her, 

yeah you tell her all the  time 

but you don't  do shit about it

and still you try to piece together 

a future that is so fucking blurred and uncertain

based solely on a gut feeling,

envisioning the both of you

together, finally, despite the odds 

heavily stacked against you.

neither of you knows for sure,

and it's been months.

she loves you too, you know?

You jackass.

Days,weeks, months,

it's been that long.

You've got nothing.

Nothing but a messy mop of hair,

a bed you rarely sleep on,

replacing it for the limitations of the living room sofa,

now dusty, and mite infested,

the very reason you moved out of your room in the first place.

Empty pockets except for a few bucks worth of coins and notes.

Slowly but surely  you're disappearing off of

everyone's radar, forgotten, a distant memory.

Life is beautiful, it really is,

when the bad has passed and the credits start rolling,

and everybody leaves the theater happy.

Until then you gotta pick yourself up,

pull yourself together and get prepped for the next act.

You might just find out who gets the girl after all.