I still don't understand why she kissed me, was it love, spite or god forbid pity - pity for who am I, of who I was born like and never outgrown. It all I've ever had - pity, anger, revulsion all because of the infliction that marrs everything I do - the posion that seeps into friendships making them dead in the water before they even start - that which casts me out before I've even belong... this....
My nights are filled with thoughts of her, my days drift by in a haze of her, playing out different endings that will never happen. Scenarios that are more for my comfort than anything else, the wishes of a hopeless dreamer who wants nothing but the sun that lights up his dark nights, the object that keeps his world spinning, his love, his life, his all. Never have I been so lost in what I've found. Why do I feel the need to embarass myself with the things I did. She probably has never given me a single thought since she walked out my life with littlle more than a goodbye - but part of me clings to the hope that she'll come back...
I try to do my music, but it always ends up frustrating me, its pointless if she doesn't get to hear it, if she doesn't sing it - she gave me her mind, I gave her music. I gave her my soul bit by bit, note by note. Rejection and despair are soul-mates of this man who is now more Phantom than he has ever been... softly I weep, the heaven's angel and the devil's servant, rejected, obssessed and alone.
