K
Kitti
Guest
Original poster
I don't really need advice, but neither am I ranting... this seemed the best solution.
I just... need to talk, need to feel that others can feel me talking.
Five years ago next month, isn't that too early to be sad?
Except I'm still sad, sad all year and each month... but not as often as I should be.
If someone is going to remember you, then doesn't it have to be me?
You'd be eighteen now. I wonder how you'd look.
What would you have been? Who?
What would you have done?
You could have done anything, everything.
The world was in the palm of your hand, waiting to be opened.
A special present -- your birthright.
You'd have still been quiet I think.
But that's only speculation.
Maybe you would have outgrown it?
You were so sweet, so wonderful.
Maybe you would have been him.
The guy that brightens the day of all the people nearby.
I think so.
But you're not.
You're mine to carry around in my breastpocket.
Instead of cheering me up anymore, you only make me sad.
Funny how you could make me sad so much longer than you had a chance to make me happy.
Five years.
That's longer than I knew you.
Isn't that ironic?
You never answer me. I don't know what you've done to deserve silence. Nothing, probably.
I just... need to talk, need to feel that others can feel me talking.
Five years ago next month, isn't that too early to be sad?
Except I'm still sad, sad all year and each month... but not as often as I should be.
If someone is going to remember you, then doesn't it have to be me?
You'd be eighteen now. I wonder how you'd look.
What would you have been? Who?
What would you have done?
You could have done anything, everything.
The world was in the palm of your hand, waiting to be opened.
A special present -- your birthright.
You'd have still been quiet I think.
But that's only speculation.
Maybe you would have outgrown it?
You were so sweet, so wonderful.
Maybe you would have been him.
The guy that brightens the day of all the people nearby.
I think so.
But you're not.
You're mine to carry around in my breastpocket.
Instead of cheering me up anymore, you only make me sad.
Funny how you could make me sad so much longer than you had a chance to make me happy.
Five years.
That's longer than I knew you.
Isn't that ironic?
You never answer me. I don't know what you've done to deserve silence. Nothing, probably.