You searched. Across the house, in the trashcan, in the vomit-covered
bed, everywhere. Found nothing. Maybe there was nothing to be found. At
least you knew what you were looking for. It wasn't so much that you wanted
the money, or even needed the money. It was more.
It was the principle of the thing.
You don't just leave people to die, and if by chance one did, they shouldn't reappear, pretending everything was fine, just to disappear once more, with your property.
You needed the wallet. A fat wallet means money, wealth, power. And that means guys. Figure it's the only way to get what you want. No one, sure as hell, wants you. So you need it, because that way you have money, supremacy, if only compared to him. You don't actually have power. He's out right now with his dealer, maybe at Babylon, and he has it. You know that if he has it, the scales are thrown off balance, and we wouldn't want that. All control lost [houston, we have a problem] and you're unbalanced. Mismatched, and you don't care. You needed love.
"Maybe you're a little old for this," you think to yourself, contemplating your life on the outskirts of the popping glorified gay sex, drugs, beauty, crystal, and techno. Can't be chasing those little kids around forever, always hoping for, but never getting a piece of ass. That's pederasty.
Plopping down on the sofa, you almost start to sob. You're only partially aware that Emmett is there, trying to cheer you up, make you forget. You kicked him out. You're responsible for the little twinkie, no matter what anyone says. Even if he wasn't responsible for you.
It's not that you love him- you don't- but you love to feel needed, if only for an extra bed that you know you'll have be cleaning up the next morning. You should probably stop being so co-dependent, always were, maybe you just can't help it. Just as blake will always love crystal mikey will always love brian brian will always love justin but will never fucking admit it due to his extremely disturbed moral code. You briefly wonder if you can actually hear the faint wisps of opera music playing in the back round or if that's just you going insane. Yes, the second option is more realistic.
Where does Emmett fit in? Oh, fuck him. He's acting like a jealous little queen. What's gotten into him? He doesn't understand; how could he possibly? Blake's what? Clean? Yeah right. Maybe it was the lack of support that got him started again. Oh, shit. No, no. What the fuck is this?!
And even after it's found, and the initial shock is gone, you still keep searching. Because, even with the money, you were still alone, and you were still subservient, even if a few dollars richer.
And that's why when you found out that he'd left rehab, you weren't as upset as maybe you should've been. Because you still believe in true love. Hell, you'd seen it with
Blake and Crystal. And it was sweet really. You have to have faith in something.
The mathematical theory always proves true. For you to achieve happiness, everything else must be ruined in the process. Everything goes wrong for you, always. X is always X. In math, at Babylon. And X=E. Crystal's always consuming. See, you're good at this. You aren't an accountant for nothing.
It's the principle of the thing.
It was the principle of the thing.
You don't just leave people to die, and if by chance one did, they shouldn't reappear, pretending everything was fine, just to disappear once more, with your property.
You needed the wallet. A fat wallet means money, wealth, power. And that means guys. Figure it's the only way to get what you want. No one, sure as hell, wants you. So you need it, because that way you have money, supremacy, if only compared to him. You don't actually have power. He's out right now with his dealer, maybe at Babylon, and he has it. You know that if he has it, the scales are thrown off balance, and we wouldn't want that. All control lost [houston, we have a problem] and you're unbalanced. Mismatched, and you don't care. You needed love.
"Maybe you're a little old for this," you think to yourself, contemplating your life on the outskirts of the popping glorified gay sex, drugs, beauty, crystal, and techno. Can't be chasing those little kids around forever, always hoping for, but never getting a piece of ass. That's pederasty.
Plopping down on the sofa, you almost start to sob. You're only partially aware that Emmett is there, trying to cheer you up, make you forget. You kicked him out. You're responsible for the little twinkie, no matter what anyone says. Even if he wasn't responsible for you.
It's not that you love him- you don't- but you love to feel needed, if only for an extra bed that you know you'll have be cleaning up the next morning. You should probably stop being so co-dependent, always were, maybe you just can't help it. Just as blake will always love crystal mikey will always love brian brian will always love justin but will never fucking admit it due to his extremely disturbed moral code. You briefly wonder if you can actually hear the faint wisps of opera music playing in the back round or if that's just you going insane. Yes, the second option is more realistic.
Where does Emmett fit in? Oh, fuck him. He's acting like a jealous little queen. What's gotten into him? He doesn't understand; how could he possibly? Blake's what? Clean? Yeah right. Maybe it was the lack of support that got him started again. Oh, shit. No, no. What the fuck is this?!
And even after it's found, and the initial shock is gone, you still keep searching. Because, even with the money, you were still alone, and you were still subservient, even if a few dollars richer.
And that's why when you found out that he'd left rehab, you weren't as upset as maybe you should've been. Because you still believe in true love. Hell, you'd seen it with
Blake and Crystal. And it was sweet really. You have to have faith in something.
The mathematical theory always proves true. For you to achieve happiness, everything else must be ruined in the process. Everything goes wrong for you, always. X is always X. In math, at Babylon. And X=E. Crystal's always consuming. See, you're good at this. You aren't an accountant for nothing.
It's the principle of the thing.