Wednesday, November 3, 2010

306.

Iron Chic : Every Town Has an Elm Street

I have this feeling in my stomach that won't go away. I can't sleep at night. I just want to get back to normal. I've always known that both Cincinnati and Chicago would be my homes. Lately when I've been in Cincinnati I feel like I'm going back to a place full of both good and bad memories. Any sort of memory is killing me.

You took the first fucking chance to get out of town. I'm cool with that but I still want you around. I wouldn't say I'm stuck here but that's irrelevant because you're free and clear. But don't sweat it. I'm just saying I couldn't really make a case for staying. I don't think I'm wrong, I don't think you're wrong. In the worst fucking case we could lose ourselves, each of us in a personal hell. We can take the heartache as we stumble our way through our old mistakes. And I get it, I don't regret it. I just want to be the one who said it. Right or wrong it's different when you're gone. We made a hell of a mess out of this poor town. We've been given the chance to spread it around. We do things the hard way. We all fall apart at our own pace. Ugly bedrooms, bred bad habits made it hard to see through all the static. Does it ever end? It never fucking ends. We saw it coming from a thousand miles away. It's a brand new day and we all find our way. Home is where the heart stays when the heart strays. Home is where we are today.

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