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07.10.05 - 8:32 pm i need a baseball bat and a convenience store. i need large panes of glass, buckets of fragile things and lots of flamable materials. i need guys with names like blaine, garrett, kevin, terry, nolan and carlos to be there too. i need some loud music. and ill need 30 minutes. waves of anger dampened by sudden bouts of melancholy. i wish i had ashtons imagination. then i could just make noises and bang cars together and wave my arms about thinking of things that make me laugh or excited. instead im plagued with an imagination of images. scenarios and memories. what is this? week three now? shouldnt i be getting close to done? i lay in bed and wonder how close she keeps her cell phone at night. i wonder if she sits and thumbs over numbers thinking of what to text message me. what to say to me if she were to call. i do this. sadly enough i think about simple phrases i could type out. how safe i would feel if i only used messages instead of actual words. and how disappointed i am in myself for desiring to do such pointless sad little things. she is nothing. she is gone. and ill never be able to be more than 100 miles from her for the next 18 to 25 years. i cant wait to be financially secure. nice car. nice home. cheap airfare. then i could just fly ashton out to me. or send him by train. for weekends or weeks. or maybe ill just fly him to me just once. one way. and he'll never have to go back again.
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