Have you ever felt a potential love for someone?

Like, you don’t actually love them and you know you don’t, but you know you could. You realise that you could easily fall in love with them. It’s almost like the bud of a flower, ready to blossom but it’s just not quite there yet. And you like them a lot, you really do. You think about them often, but you don’t love them. You could, though. You know you could.

"Meagan has a boyfriend," I said, and looked at her. She asked if I was serious and if so, who? I explained to her. Shizuo. 

"He wasn't that attractive." She kept repeating the word 'ew'. 

I never got a look at the guy, I didn't care about him. In all honesty I hated him. I hated how she kept talking about him. I wouldn't keep with them because I hated him, and her. 

"He's 22. And her mother supports it and everything." 

She kept looking at me to see if I was sad. I stared off into the distance. She asked if it was the same guy they gave food to. I said, "My sausage and biscuit." She said yeah, he ate it, too. And then she kept talking about food at the con. She changed the subject to food. I was grateful. 

We were in the truck, I was in the back. He and she were in the front. It was quiet. I kept thinking about how he didn't care for us anymore now that the little one had come around and I wished I could bring it up. We got to talking about friends somehow. She and I. I told her I didn't know if I even had a best friend because all my friendships are shallow. "No one cares about me as much as I care about them," I told her. He laughed and told me to quit it. He always laughs at words that come from my heart. I now focused my attention on him, I said I was serious. "I'm serious." I took a breath. "And I'm starting to feel that way about you, too, Paul. You only come to see Bella now." He burst into laughter. Again, at my serious words. He said he didn't text the little one every day and kept laughing. I considered telling him it was probably because she was three years old and didn't have a cell phone but kept my mouth shut. The subject was dropped. I thought a lot about my relationships and the city around me. I cried two tears and I hated myself as I did so and the span of the entire day afterwards. My heart hasn't been the same since the realization that everyone leaves me for another. 

"The Story So Far?" She asked. "How are they?"

"Good. You wouldn't like them," was my reply. I didn't want her to start liking them because it was a thing that I liked and wanted to keep to myself. 

"Do you really think I wouldn't like them or do you just not want me to listen to them?"

"I really don't think you'd like them," I lied. She would. 

No one else was listening.  

Just a moment later, she burst, "19 downloaded." 

Insert curse here. No, stop, you can't like the music I like! Stop it. Quit!

I called her out on it. "Seriously?"

Everybody at my table looked at me. They tried to force an answer out of me as to why I was upset with her. I finally explained that she wanted to start listening to a band I liked and I didn't want her to. 

The table erupted.

"Wow."

"I can't believe she just said that."

"If anything you should be happy she wants to like what you like."

"Selfish."

"You're being rude."

Yeah, maybe. Maybe I am but, the table bombarded me with insults and continued to do so. I was hurt and no one understood and I felt my heart sink and I started shaking. Everyone looked at me. I sank in my seat. I tried to hide my face with my hair as they hurled their insults. "Never mind," was all I remember saying. "Never mind." That's all I could say but they didn't stop looking at me. I exploded, too. "Stop looking at me," I shouted to him, "Stop looking at me!" And I didn't raise my gaze towards anyone else. I didn't look at anything. My gaze was fixed on the table. And it stayed there. 

A Nightmare.

I was outside watching some kids play

Samantha was too, she went in to go to the bathroom, a man followed. 

I wearily followed them in, after a while, 

It wasn't right, he was dirty. 

I looked but didn't see either of them. 

Straight ahead the bathroom door stood firm and tall. I listened in, he and she were talking. 

The door flung open by my own doings. I told him to get out of my house. 

He walked past, I saw something in his hand, silver, it was a pistol, I screamed. 

I burst into my grandma's room and shout at her to wake, 

I jump on the bed and shake her. 

She doesn't budge, he laughs.

Is she alive? 

I shake her,

Wake, I scream, she is still. Wake! God damn it, wake up! 

She opens her eyes and I tell her there is a man trying to touch us and hurt us

He is a nasty man and I am afraid. 

She sits up, looks at him, I knew there was something wrong when you girls went outside,

I scream at her to get up, she can't, 

I run into another room. He and Samantha follow, beat me there. 

He is sitting on a bench, she is right beside him, she is comfortable. I yell at her, save me, save me, help me!

He pulls me into his lap and I scream, I straddle him, I reach for Samantha. 

She says sorry, she isn't dealing with this, she opens the door and slips out. 

She slams the door shut. 

August 12, 2013.

I sent her another reluctant message. 

She picked up her phone. 

I, hopeless. 

She put her phone down. Picked it up again when she got another buzz, not from me. 

I messaged the other, she replied, said she's picked up and put down then phone, there was food, she was gone. 

I was tired.

My own food sought after me. I dropped my journal and leapt to the fridge. It was what she'd made. 

The day before she'd stopped responding. 

Would I ever speak to her again?, sadness wrenched my gut. 

Sadness twisted my gut. 

I was sat on the toilet. Feeling achey but what from? Sick per usual. A pinch resided beneath a rib, didn't leave, didn't retreat, couldn't stretch it out, couldn't feel my lungs, couldn't feel any--

A buzz. 

It was her. It was her!

But it wasn't her, it never was. 

It never was. 

A conversation regarding the mother shook me, felt wrenched from the inside out, tears filled eyes but didn't escape, I was by myself. 

No buzz. 

Only the sound of an infant. 

Was it her? The infant. Where was it coming from?

Perhaps my tulpa. It hadn't developed well enough. 

Virtual deity, it wasn't tulpa, I cried, nothing happened. Pages were blank, one half filled, nothing to say, no one to say it to. 

No one to say it to. 

Whaaat? Song Writing?

Guess who has been writing songs?
Go on, guess.
...
No, not David Bowie (he's practically dead).
Moi.

Influences:
1-800-ZOMBIE
Retard-O-Bot
Stolen Babies
Lily Allen
Nuclear Rabbit.

This is going to be a pretty effed up musical experiment.

Songs are about 30 seconds long.
With names such as:
If This Song Is Famous I'll Kill A Puppy
and
Wingstop.

I am writing a song for my friend Eilia for her birthday.
I do hope she likes my crap.
Normally she doesn't like this type of music.
But... oh well, because I can't play any other kind.

So yay! Songwriting. c: