I'm 35 years old and I still have a crush on you. Even in 2013, you're hot. No one smokes a cigarette like you. I was depressed that the House of Blues wasn't sold out. I'm from another time. I know you'd really hate me if you knew me though :)
visited 32 states (64%)
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visited 5 states (2.22%)
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visited 3 states (23.0%)
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Not very impressive actually. :(
Once upon a time, in place far far away, at a time that I can never have back, at a life that died a long time ago, a picture like this meant nothing to me:
It would have just been a man and a child, probably his child. I would have thought "cute" and moved on.
Now every father and every daughter is a slap in the face to me. Now every family is a taunt. Every happy child and happy father seem placed in front of me just to torture me. I see this everyday. When I am in a professional setting, I have to bite my cheek hard to not start sobbing hysterically.
When I remember being the first person in the world to hold my son and daughter in my arms, a choke travels down my throat with bile rising like napalm. That is actually me devouring my own self-hatred mixed with sulfuric guilt.
And I will smoke a cigarette, look at the stars, a whole hemisphere away. And just ask "Why?" After I try to blame it on the medication, or blame it on the booze or blame it on anyone else but me, I realize: I am not asking "Why me?" but rather "Why, me?"