The cold is in my bones/Said it's gone beyond the line this time

I want to say something smart. Something beautiful about the power of love and the transience of life and the best I can come up with is "don't need money. don't need fame. don't need no credit card to ride this train."

ah, Huey.

I want to believe that curling up next to someone is always comforting. That it doesn't have to lead to talking to two of your best friends while sitting in your bathroom, listening to aforementioned someone snore through your walls, your traitorous toy poodle choosing the wrong side.

I want to believe that I won't always take things so fucking literally. That someday I'll learn to relax into a relationship.

I want to believe that someday I'll meet Someone and I'll know that while not perfect, Someone will be right for me.

I sit here at work. Pick at my lips till they bleed. Field phonecalls from people I could care less about. I know I have to take a piss and that I should sit up straight and that I shouldn't have stolen canned soda (not even Diet) from the going-away pizza party.

I know after work, I must walk poodle, pack bag, take cab to Dad. How I wish I could talk to him about this. Maybe hearing my sad story would make him feel better. Knowing my dad, he might advise me to give guy the perma-boot or he might tell me, as he often does, that I'm over-dramatic, take things too seriously. And he wouldn't be the first.

My dad doesn't have a bloodclot in his lung. Or cancer. Just pneumonia that's switched sides that hopefully will be treatable within three weeks. I know I'm relieved. I know I'm happy. But hearing that news made me want to go screaming from the hilltops: "fuck you all!"