twjerricas
Dense...people can be dense. It bothers me when they are, like this guy I know thinks that there's no such thing as actual transgendered people, that they're just confused. But that's total bullshit, right? Mind over matter. He's dense but he thinks he's philosophical and that's probably the worst person in the world ever. Too bad I dated him for three months...that was probably a mistake, no?
Straw is the color of his hair, straw is the way it hangs in his face. Straw smells like fields, warm and beckoning to be traversed. Straw is like the beams of sunshine in the sky. Straw is hope and promise but it's so simple some people don't realize it. But it's there, beautiful like green grass and everything.
Wonderwall, my favorite song. A song about loving someone and hoping that they can save you from yourself. Sung from the heart. I've always loved this song. I used to run to it until I stopped running to music, preferring my own thoughts instead. Maybe that's the wonder. Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. Because after all, you're my wonderwall...
Station, staying somewhere. Fire station, where firefighters are located. He moves on, goes on the train, while I remain at the station. There are others at the station with me, but it's the fact that he moves forward while I stay put. That his life goes on while mine goes on but in the same place. Why does his life get to go? What about me? Why?
Montage, running by the tune of music. It seems like the music fits perfectly, to everything. Every memory is heightened by the singer belting out the final note, and then everything fades to darkness, and the music ends, and there's an empty feeling, like space. Space infinite.
His sideburns etch his face, red and blonde, he calls it strawberry blond, but it's almost orange. He won't cut them no matter how much I beg, but I know secretly that if he did it would kill me because when we kiss I love to trace my fingers down them, rough and short but longer than stubble.