Nothing
silence is the worst answer you could give to my unspoken questions, so this is of course what I get. unknowing I patiently wait in the dark for a response, a brief string of words that at least slams the door shut in my face. but instead, I stand idly by and when I finally can�t stand it anymore, I step from the darkness, push open the door and find the place I�ve been standing patiently in front of long empty and abandon.
I could, my dear, send you something that pardons your behavior, a blind apology if you will, for the unknown situation that I know nothing of yet I now somehow must deal with.
There is the feasible option of continuing to blindly place calls and send messages betraying the innocence I do not have and falsely hope this will guilt or inspire you into action.
Or
I could really freak you the fuck out and return the scorn and jaded feelings ten-fold and show you just exactly how insane and irrational human beings are capable of being. A few notes on your car, front door; maybe some flowers to your office. While this certainly wouldn�t result with a response in any way shape or form, vindication would be mind and I could damage yet another soul and setback your progress a few more months, now couldn�t I, my dear?
Alas, my soul has been old far longer than I care to think of. The physical shell that holds this old soul betrays the decrepit form that lies within; if my soul would take on a physical being it would need a motorized wheel chair to get around in. you can surely say that I was old before my time.
So yes, my dear, there are lots of things I could do, if my soul weren�t so old, but thankfully for us both this old soul has learned a thing or two:
time is on my side, but even the Grim Reaper won�t wait at the bus stop forever
so for you, my dear, i give the gift of nothing to go with the nothing you have given to me.
and nothing, my dear, compliments nothing better than nothing at all.
Comments Are Always Appreciated!
powered by SignMyGuestbook.com