Disclaimer: If I owned Pretty Evan, I'd be with him instead of writintg about him. So, because all I really have to offer is my soul: I have nothing. Don't sue, not mine, blah blah blah. THERE. I'm done.
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I keep having dreams. Not aspirations or goals, but those day dreams you think up when your staring out the window of your high-school chemistry class. What might have been if I had changed something else. What would have been. What could have been. It all means something similar, if you think about it.
Of course, then there are the nightmares.
Sometimes, when I'm watching TV, I drift off. I don't even realize I'm dreaming. But suddenly I'll see you when we were seven, picking up that fucking Blockbuster with an eager light in your eyes as you comment, "Oooh, Sparkler!". Or when I'll see Mrs. Helper and her baby, both so innocent. They had no clue, and I didn't stop them the first time. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Didn't. Half of the time, I wake up, roll over and throw up, regardless of where I am. Just.. Just the image of them, of YOU, being blown to bits is enough to make me want to puke again.
And let's not forget Tommy. When I went back and had a little chat with your father. When I found out I had joined a phrat for some deranged reason unknown to me. When I used the pepper spray (or was it mace?), when I finally let rage take over me. I didn't mean to kill him I just.. I couldn't control myself. I was like some animal, and my only instinct was to kill. I tried to stop myself, but.. There was no way the animal was letting go of it's latest vitcim. Tried to. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Didn't. It's all the same.
Often I wake up screaming your name, terrified. I have every right to. Part of me wants to recover what I burnt in the junkyard that one day. But I can't-- it's for the best, right? Even if I want to, no matter HOW much I want to, I can't see you again without messing your perfect life up. I thought I saw you the other day, and it completely changed my mind. You were smiling.. I couldn't HELP but stop and stare at you. God, Kayleigh, you're beautiful in white. See? Those are the daydreams. You have someone nice to take care of you, I'm sure. And... I know you don't know me anymore, but.. Keyleigh?
I'm sorry.
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I keep having dreams. Not aspirations or goals, but those day dreams you think up when your staring out the window of your high-school chemistry class. What might have been if I had changed something else. What would have been. What could have been. It all means something similar, if you think about it.
Of course, then there are the nightmares.
Sometimes, when I'm watching TV, I drift off. I don't even realize I'm dreaming. But suddenly I'll see you when we were seven, picking up that fucking Blockbuster with an eager light in your eyes as you comment, "Oooh, Sparkler!". Or when I'll see Mrs. Helper and her baby, both so innocent. They had no clue, and I didn't stop them the first time. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Didn't. Half of the time, I wake up, roll over and throw up, regardless of where I am. Just.. Just the image of them, of YOU, being blown to bits is enough to make me want to puke again.
And let's not forget Tommy. When I went back and had a little chat with your father. When I found out I had joined a phrat for some deranged reason unknown to me. When I used the pepper spray (or was it mace?), when I finally let rage take over me. I didn't mean to kill him I just.. I couldn't control myself. I was like some animal, and my only instinct was to kill. I tried to stop myself, but.. There was no way the animal was letting go of it's latest vitcim. Tried to. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Didn't. It's all the same.
Often I wake up screaming your name, terrified. I have every right to. Part of me wants to recover what I burnt in the junkyard that one day. But I can't-- it's for the best, right? Even if I want to, no matter HOW much I want to, I can't see you again without messing your perfect life up. I thought I saw you the other day, and it completely changed my mind. You were smiling.. I couldn't HELP but stop and stare at you. God, Kayleigh, you're beautiful in white. See? Those are the daydreams. You have someone nice to take care of you, I'm sure. And... I know you don't know me anymore, but.. Keyleigh?
I'm sorry.