i have a confession, america.

this is my house on a sunday night

the sunday night before school starts.

these folks are way way too happy.

happy about what, im not sure.

i like to laugh, to have fun, to have a good time too. but sometimes its just not in the cards for that particular night, or just not feeling the whole flow of the party thats going down in my living room.

there so many people here the fire marshall would have our asses in a handbag. hopefully we can still have a good time and no one will get hurt and no cops will show up.

like last time.

its a funny thing, though. when a man is surrounded by his friends, but he has a heavy heart because of who actually isnt there.

and none of them are none the wiser.

every time the door opens and i hear a voice, im sitting in my chair expecting it to be her.

blonde hair.

expensive jeans.

designer handbag in tow.

when the door closes and its just two guys with flipflops on and a case of beer, my heart just sags a little lower than before.

cuz i know shes not coming.

i have an explanation for you, america. paris and i had a nasty, knock down drag out fight for the last four days or so.

and then she broke up with me. which is really a nice way of saying she broke my heart.

in the movie closer, natalie portman's character says this little gem, at the beginning and at the end:

"I don't love you anymore. Goodbye."

at the beginning, shes telling dan why she left new york to come to london. at the end, shes telling dan why shes leaving london to go to new york.

i find myself wishing that things went so smoothly with paris. that she would have cared about me enough, even at her highest point of betrayal and disloyalty that she would let me down softly, with such a simple explanation that didnt require any yelling or screaming or tears or sweat.

i wish that it could have been different.

i wish that things could have been different.

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