I am sitting alone crying.

Jay-Z on SNL. His second performance. No back drop. White t shirt. No acknowledgement of the crowd. Eyes closed. 

He rapped his apology. I was blown away with the track on the album. So raw and emotional and honest. The first time I heard it was right around the break up so it resonated deeply. 

But in this age of grabbing every single album and listening twice before moving on to the next flavor of the week or indie darling it got lost in the shuffle. 

I go from new obsession to next obsession musically. Whatever echoes my inner monologue or shocks my head into a new direction.

So I forgot the song. And he got up there and bared himself to the entire world and only to one person at one beautiful moment. 

The tears started mid first verse. It is just so fucking powerful and his expressions. Fuck. I realize it was probably rehearsed and he knew every pained look to give. But I was so caught up in the flow and pure depth. 

I have written a love letter or two. Some real, some fake most never seen. The syrup and flowery bits are my little secret. Not for human consumption. They seem false and forced. Like fondant on a cake, it looks pretty but it has no taste. But when I say them I mean them. They just feel like they ring hollow and are smooth pick up lines.

What he was rapping was a love letter. An apology that was inked in blood. And it was beautiful like an unexpected smile that makes the eyes twinkle. 

When I read my works they are empty. The emotion burned off to flavor the text. When I read or hear someone else expose themselves to the elements I can only find perfection. An echo to the beat in my chest. A sound that can change every thing for a few seconds.

It was probably just the right song at the right moment that triggered this response. No wants to know the secret of the magic trick. But I am grateful to have had that precious time. 

I think I will stare at the ceiling and think for a bit. I want my moment to do that. Bare myself to everyone and move them. Make them giggle a little and cringe when it gets to be too much. Make them all fall in love with me for a second. Understand just a touch. Then pull the carpet out and watch where it all falls.

I am not sure if any of this is worth the time you take to read. I don’t know if it lets you in to the inner me or makes the roiling mass of tentacles and darkness more pronounced. Whatever it does that makes you read more, curiosity morbid or not, don’t let it lull you into a sense that I am worth something because of it. I’m not.

I’m not.

This is as close as you probably want to get. I’m messy. messy. messy. messy. messy. a mess. a burning tire fire on the side of life’s highway. I cry to Jay-Z and sabotage myself. Then I spit it all out in an attempt to find worth. 

I am writing a lot lately. Here. Facebook garbage. in my mind. But it will not stop. I am just in this weird spot where everything is converging at once but none of it seems real. Or is real and I cannot tell any longer.

I imagine I will be back again today. But if I am not I miss you. Maybe this is my way of telling you everything. it has become less a commentary and more the only way I can spill the truth without it all becoming weird. I can slip the mask back on in the other world. But here I can stare at you with sad soulful eyes and whisper sweet little nothings into your mind directly. 

You are beautiful. And your smile lights up the night. When you get that certain tone in your voice I would dive into a volcano to fetch your hearts desire. 

fuck me

One thought on “nothings

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