Laid

It's funny how some songs can really "get" you, and resonate inside your soul on an intense, emotional level. You hear the song and it hits you hard, like being punched in the stomach. It makes you remember a certain person, a certain time, a certain place. It puts a lump in your throat. It makes you realize what's missing.

Most of the time, what I write in this blog is for thousands of anonymous people. But this entry is for one person, and one person only. She knows who she is.

It's time to wake up, dear, before it's too late. I know you deserve better than me, but I also know you're as miserable as I am. I miss you so much it hurts.

"This bed is on fire with passion and love
The neighbors complain about the noises above
But she only comes when she's on top

My therapist said not to see you no more
She said you're like a disease without any cure
She said I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no

Ah, you think you're so pretty (eeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeee)

Caught your hand inside the till,
Slammed your fingers in the door
Bought the kitchen knives and skewers
Dressed me up in women's clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Dye my eyes and call me pretty

Moved out of the house, so you moved next door
I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall
I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone
You're driving me crazy, when are you coming home?"

As for the rest of you, I promise to get back to being a miserable prick tomorrow.
Don't worry, the woman this post is about won't make me happy. She could make me happy if she wanted to... but she won't.