It's not too cold of a night for a walk
Even if this one was not by choice
I'm not sorry for being so drunk
I only ever wanted to hear your sweet voice

Even if the only words it told me were,
"*******!"
Sometimes it's the little things that mean so much

Your spirits weren't as bright as I remember
I suppose my own had something to do with that
I'm not sorry for losing your number
Just kind of sorry that you won't give it back

But I'm never sorry for the things that I do
I just wanted to see how things were working out
Sometimes I really do worry about you
You said that I'm the one I should be worried about

Your hair color has changed
Your pajamas said "Somebody Loves Me"
That might be true in more than one way
More ways than you seem to need

I tried my best not to look back
But I know you stood in the doorway as I walked off
Sometimes it's the little things that mean so much
Sometimes a walk in the cold is enough

I used to lie in bed at night thinking about the time we could spend together.
It soon switched to thinking about the time we had spent together.
And somewhere along the line it changed again,
this time into negative thoughts.
Resentful thoughts.
And recently, I'm not sure when
they became fond memories.
I could see passed the fog of loss
and into the ocean of happiness that we swam in together.

There still is that fog, I guess.
Somewhere along the line
I saw only your flaws.
I saw all the things people say when they talk about you.
I see the lies but I also see the fun.
And I'm not sure, I haven't decided yet, but I think you used me.
I'm not sure why you chose me,
or why I chose you,
but we chose to use each other.

Recently,
I can see everything clearer
and recently I've been seeing things in a brighter shade of orange.

Dedicated to Bobby Trice, Willem Cole Traupel, and Haley Ristow*

Spilled sodas
and spilled hearts.
Smoked cigarettes
and smoked days.

The snow has ceased falling, and my mood has continued climbing.
What used to be a dark shade of orange, an orange haze,
is now a light, gentle shade of white.
Crisp and clear.

And as I shoveled the drive way,
I thought of the less than extraordinary Sunday
and how extraordinary it was.

And as I looked into my cigarette pack, finding it empty,
I remembered a quote the director of our school play had said
"Do not cry because it's over, smile because it happened"
And I guess it's silly to think of a pack of Organic American Spirits in the same shade of white that others think of a school play.
Maybe it's not so much the cigarettes but the people I shared them with.
The people I love.
My bestfriends.

when you're alone, you don't have to defend your motives
when you're alone, you don't have to have five good reasons
or three
or even one

every action has a consequence
maybe every action has an antecedent
sometimes i just don't want to investigate.

it's as if
everyone else lives to.

sometimes
i'm just difficult.
i'm just emotional, i'm just irrational, i'm just impulsive.

but if i was predictable, who would bother predicting?

it's embarrassingly easy to confuse people.