Dear Randy

I was on the phone with you tonight before I called Jane. Sometimes when I talk to you, I feel like you think you're better than me and are too nice to say so... Its not that I think you really believe this deep down. It's just sometimes, your tone, your laugh, your ability to laugh off anything I say, your tendency to act as though what I say bears no weight... Sometimes, I wonder if you really do think as highly of me as you say you do... In fact, I don't think you do. I think you give me a lot of lip service... Not because you feel like you have to, but because I feel like you enjoy the reaction I give you. You enjoy our flirtation because I give you my heart without expectation of anything in return... But I am growing weary my dear... I am growing very weary. In fact, I don't know if you had noticed, but I stopped calling you for a bit... I didn't make an effort to talk at all for a bit... Because I was mad at you. I was disappointed in your behavior. You were taking advantage of the fact that I like you. Which is fun for you I'm sure... You didn't mean to, but you were enjoying it none-the-less.

In the last week I have started to see you for who you really are... Which isn't a bad person, but you are no longer the standard. I know better exists... I don't know why I thought you were the best I could do... What the fuck was I thinking. Last week I was so mad at you, that I almost decided not to talk to you until I got back... And if you get back with Savannah, I won't. "If we weren't such good friends I think that I'd hate you.
If we weren't such good friends I'd wish you were dead." I already see it coming. I already know you will. I already am thinking of ways to not miss you and I am already mad at you for doing this to me. For doing this to yourself. Because I will clean this HUGE mess when its over. I will get burned. I see this coming from a mile away. I am going to stop giving my heart to you... Because I'm running out of places to hide from you. I'm going to run out of ways to keep myself from getting hurt. I am tired my darling. Tired of this mess you have made. Tired of laying in the bed you made. I want you to be happy and stable and healthy. But I don't want to want for you that which you do not want for yourself. I can't make you choose what is best for you. I can just be there when you fall and tell myself that the next time you're on your own. I will tell myself this time and again and for some reason I will keep being there, because in my head I have to. But I just want you to know Randy. I want you to know, that I don't want to clean up your mess. I want you to not make it to begin with. I know that's asking alot. I know that's expecting too much... But I'm tired of wanting the best I know... I want the best there is. And that my love, is not you. Not by a long shot.

Fuck Was I...

Love grows in me like a tumor,
parasites bent on devouring its host.
I'm developing my sense of humor,
till I can laugh at my heart between your teeth,
till I can laugh at my face beneath your feet.

Skillet on the stove is such a temptation,
maybe I'll be the lucky one that doesnt get burned.
What the fuck was I thinking?

Love plows through me like a dozer,
I've got more give than a bale of hay,
and there's always a big mess left over.
What did you do?
What did you say?

Skillet on the stove is such a temptation,
maybe I'll be the special one that doesn't get burned.
What the fuck was I thinking?

Love tears me up like a demon.
Opens the wounds and fills them with lead,
and I'm having some trouble just breathing.
If we weren't such good friends I think that I'd hate you.
If we weren't such good friends I'd wish you were dead

Oh it's so embarrassing
I'm this awkward and uncomparable thing,
and I'm running out of places to hide