I wrote a song to tell you how I feel about you.
It's an instrumental.
I know I'm Mr Stoic. Xander used to think it was so cool; used to think I was so cool. That was a while ago, though. Before love and lust got tangled up and became logic-blockers. I'm sorry, even if I can't tell you. I guess when I saw Tara I got a touch of the green-eyed monster. Still, it's better than turning into the green-eyed monster.
Even though I do that too sometimes.
I'm sorry about the moon. It's not your fault that it makes me go wild sometimes. And I'm sorry about Veruca. Even though she's dead, I can still feel her. The pull of her. In Thailand, I walked past another wolf, and I could feel it. A girl. I wanted her so bad, Will. I have to tell you because you have to understand. I don't want to be without you. But I can't be with you, either.
Not until I stop being the wolf all the time. Not until I don't have to wear a mask any more.
Not until the face you touch is the one that I own instead of just being the one I wear.
I know sometimes I don't say things and hope you'll still understand. Sometimes you do. Sometimes things float over your head, but that's okay, too. Sometimes you should just let things go instead of forcing them. Let them find their own direction, instead of holding them down and coercing them into a different one.
So anyway, college wasn't the 'thing' for me the way it is for you. And you weren't the 'thing' for me, either, although maybe if Tara... I guess there's no point wondering about how you'd be without Tara. 'Cause you are with Tara. That's what's important.
I know it's hard to write back when there's no place to send the letters. I know you can't live that way. But I hope you can try. And maybe one day, without anybody forcing us, we'll find our way back to each other.
I can write a song to tell you what I really feel, then.
Or maybe another instrumental.
It's an instrumental.
I know I'm Mr Stoic. Xander used to think it was so cool; used to think I was so cool. That was a while ago, though. Before love and lust got tangled up and became logic-blockers. I'm sorry, even if I can't tell you. I guess when I saw Tara I got a touch of the green-eyed monster. Still, it's better than turning into the green-eyed monster.
Even though I do that too sometimes.
I'm sorry about the moon. It's not your fault that it makes me go wild sometimes. And I'm sorry about Veruca. Even though she's dead, I can still feel her. The pull of her. In Thailand, I walked past another wolf, and I could feel it. A girl. I wanted her so bad, Will. I have to tell you because you have to understand. I don't want to be without you. But I can't be with you, either.
Not until I stop being the wolf all the time. Not until I don't have to wear a mask any more.
Not until the face you touch is the one that I own instead of just being the one I wear.
I know sometimes I don't say things and hope you'll still understand. Sometimes you do. Sometimes things float over your head, but that's okay, too. Sometimes you should just let things go instead of forcing them. Let them find their own direction, instead of holding them down and coercing them into a different one.
So anyway, college wasn't the 'thing' for me the way it is for you. And you weren't the 'thing' for me, either, although maybe if Tara... I guess there's no point wondering about how you'd be without Tara. 'Cause you are with Tara. That's what's important.
I know it's hard to write back when there's no place to send the letters. I know you can't live that way. But I hope you can try. And maybe one day, without anybody forcing us, we'll find our way back to each other.
I can write a song to tell you what I really feel, then.
Or maybe another instrumental.
