"
let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of france.
let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance.
let's get rich and build a house on a mountain, makin' everybody look like ants from way up there.
you and i, you and i.
"
so there i was, driving in my car, waiting to cry.
over the stereophonic, a familiar song. our song.
the acoustic version.
and then i realized: after some time, you forget the bad parts.
after clashing and disagreeing and eventually splitting, it all seems to trivial. because, at the end of the day, someone cared what happened. someone looked forward.
to me.
and what i thought, and who i am.
relationships, life, future.
what are they? figments that can never be defined? because it feels and seems like it.
everyone is different.
and i think that i am just stuck right now.
i need a flow,
a surge,
an overflow.
of joy.
cause i love the way you say 'good morning'
and you take me the way i am.
and last weekend, i escaped.
i needed 'me' time. for no alarming reason. i needed to take a trip, listen to my music, sing like hell, enjoy the big city, get outta my town,
escape.
and before i knew it, i was eating at a delicious top-rated restaurant, writing in my sketchbook, driving like a city-man, and, before i knew it,
listening to one of the finest orchestras in one of the finest cathedrals in the upper midwest.
and it was worth every penny.
wait, more than every penny.
because my time transcended "alone time." it was more than a weekend by myself.
it was a weekend with myself.
i'll buy you rogaine when you start losing all your hair
sew on patches to all you tear
cause i love you more then i could ever promise
and you take me the way i am.
i was driving today and thought "i don't enjoy who i am right now."
kick it up, brian...
