Match Made on Earth

Then the time came.
Me and Casey were just sitting there. The broken swing over on the tree was dead still. It made me feel better in a way. It made me feel like maybe it was better to stay inside, where the life was. In that same way though it seemed like the perfect getaway. The stillness in the forest would seem so contradicting. The scariness of the silent and hidden dangers and the sensation of being alone.

I wanted to be alone.

I just wanted to be alone.

Now that Casey started to be actually happy around me, I just didn't seem to want any of it. I had no idea why. Here was the girl of my dreams literally just sitting in my lap, and I wanted to be with myself. I wanted to think my own thoughts.

So really, what happened to me?

She jumped the border.
That door that separated the dry, flickering excavation site I called my basement and the panicked killjoy of what was left of the public opened more times than ever, so that Casey could almost trip every time she came down to sit with me. Her sweatpants, t-shirt, and white sneakers just killed me every time, I swear.

When she was awake, I was so self conscious and destroyed my brain with my worries. Who was she with? Why did she talk to me of all people? What if she isn't just talking to me? Why did she leave me alone so often and yet, not at all? Why did she seem so happy around me, leaving her stress behind, and yet she still went back to her world?

When she was asleep, I continued to destroy myself, telling myself that she wasn't dreaming of anyone else. Telling myself to calm down, I'm not her only thought. Then I started to wonder how much I actually did come up in her everyday life.

These were the things best left to the emos that constantly screamed through my stereo.

So this is what they felt.
Those poor commercial punk bastards.

Their voice seemed too fake to mean anything. I still related to their words. It was like they were accidentally right. No way that they could slit their wrists and still make millions a year. Everytime they took a breath, they had another C-note in their bank account.

It wasn't fair.

So me and Casey were just sitting there.

I was thinking of all these things, too concentrated on her to think of anything else. Maybe this feeling would pass over time. Just like how we got over that swing. Just like how that swing used to swing with me and her taking turns, I would get over the turns in my stomach.

Maybe this is only a fake moment.

I really need to cherish these kind of things.