you've been telling me this whole time that things are just as they are (as they are as they are as they are) and i wish i could believe you but it's in the way that we all smile sometimes when we're so drunk off of 55 cent beer even though it's monday night and, yeah, i know that i don't look like her and that i'll never get her and that he'll never like me (because who the fuck doesn't shave under their goddamn armpits) and i really wish that i could tell you i didn't care and that i'm happier the way i am because i am enlightened. i know the TRUTH but of course we all know that's complete bullshit...i just wish i could prove that the hair around my drain could form something beautiful if i lifted it up in the right kind of way. i just wish that friends would stay forever if you held them tight enough. i just wish that with enough training- we could all become something worthwhile. Meanwhile, she is brushing her teeth, examining the angles that her jawline make against the white tiled walls and she's counting the number of blackheads that make her so imperfect and the number of muscles that make him so delicious and she wishes that she could tell me....but i'll keep not listening...because i've cut off my ears...because the noise is too loud. and i'm pretty sure that one day i'll see him at a bar and then we'll be talking and then we'll be leaving and his hand will be around my waist so casual and when we get to his house (which is closer than mine) i'll suddenly forget what it felt like to not want this and then our lips will be so warm and tongues will live and hands will be everywhere and his bed will stumble upon us without introduction and the way he unzips my pants won't be like intrusion and the his hands fit everywhere won't be rude and the way my fingers hold onto his skin will be perfect and the way we don't see each other later will be the way i have always wanted it to be....but i create these lies for myself all of the time.