Him: I don't claim to know every thing.
Her: You act like you do.
Him: It's kinda misconception.
Him: You interest me.
Her: K.
Him: Wanna crack your head open
and see what's inside.
Her: It's cool with candy corn, psycho.
Him: See.. that's interesting.
Her: What?
Him: Sarcasm as reflection mechanism.
Her: I don't know sometimes I think they ruin marriage for me.
Him: That's a grand statement.
Her: I know. Sometimes I'm scared to say it out loud because I'm afraid
my parents will hear me somewhere across the miles.
And I don't want to hurt them like that, but at the same time,
I just don't think marriage works... for anyone.
Him: Well, maybe it does, but it's just not for you.
Her: So you're saying a thing marriage can work.
Him: No. I'm saying it's just not for you.
Her: Maybe you're right.
Mean who am I to say something as broad as that.
It just seems like our generations parents are either divorce
or unhappy or both.
Her: Do you ever think that you think too much?
Him: Uhm..
Her: Because I think that all the time
Him: Well..
Her: Ah, not the thinking as bad thing
It's just the incessant thinking about what I'm thinking about,
and how it makes me think of things that I don't wanna think about.
Him: What are you thinking about?
Her: 'Bout how I'm thinking. No, I'm just thinking.
I'm thinking about how I can't seem to get through a day without
feeling nostalgic about my past, or nostalgic for some future
I haven't even lived, and probably never will.
It makes me sad.
Her: I wish I could be happy with something simple...
Like a farm. Some animals. Maybe some sheep that I shear.
Weave my own fabric on an old fashion room and be happy doing that.
Him: You'd like to shear sheep?
Her: Not literally. Actually strangely frightened by a sheep.
I just mean something like that you know. Simplier way of life.
Him: Yeah, but it probably suck.
Her: But maybe I'd be happy.
Him: Do you believe that?
Her: Yes. No. F*ck, I don't know.
It's just that I've decided what to do with myself because it's what I want.
But I can't think of nothing worst than chasing after something you've always wanted, and then realizing it doesn't make you happy
even after you struggle to get it.
Him: Yeah, but how do you know you gonna hate it when you get there?
Her: I don't know, maybe I won't.
But it's what I want at 23, by the time I get there I won't be 23 anymore,
which makes me think I'm always gonna want what I want now.
Him: It takes a lot to impress you.
Her: What?
Him: It's probably because you're jaded.
Her: Just because I'm not easily impress doesn't mean I'm jaded.
I guess it's just one of those things when you couldn't slit yourself
but you never really believe it until you hear it from someone else.
I can't seem to stop hiding behind sarcasm and irony and mock sincerity.
I hide from real emotions or I hide from talking about them.
Because I'm afraid of the embarrassment or self-lobbing it could cause.
It's as if I'm afraid to take myself seriously.
And sometimes I hate myself for that.
- Her
No comments:
Post a Comment