*sigh*

How long can we wait here
To say goodbye?
The words once they're spoken
Are words that we can't take

Back to where we were, before
Things got in the way
Life gets so confusing
When you know what you're loosing

You
Me
Why can't we see that there's
More to love than we'll ever know
Sometimes you're closer when you're
Letting go
I wish the best for you
I wish the best for you

We'll both regret the hurting
That we will do
You'll learn to forget me
And I'll try I'll try to forget...

You
Me
Why can't we see that there's
More to love than we'll ever know
Sometimes you're closer when you're
Letting go
I wish the best for you
I wish the best

If you ever need a place that you can run to
I'll be here, I'll be here

You
Me
Why can't we see that there's
More to love than we'll ever know
Sometimes you're closer when you're
Letting go
I wish the best for you
I wish the best for you



Look. I know I'm a bitch. I'm my own worst enemy. I can only imagine what I do to you. I'm miserable to live with. But...Even though it's mostly my fault, I feel like we should know each other better than this, hell, we should love each other more than this. Or differently...not that way. (Sorry, had to alleviate the tension - you know how I am.) We shouldn't be this way. I'm the guilty party. But...I don't know. I guess all I want to say is, I don't want to live this song. Because it wouldn't work. Not on my part, anyway. We'd finally decide to part ways for a while, because we need time or what have you, but just as we start to walk away from each other, I wouldn't be able to help but stop, spin around, run up behind you and hold you. Cliche, yes. Lover-ish, yes. But...I do. I love you. I mean...shit. You were my first sister. I can't not love you. No matter how much I bitch, no matter what I do or say or whatever, I always feel guilty. Sure, I'm outwardly pissed, but that's not what's deep down. Deep down I'm kicking myself - for being bitchy, for not believing my mom (and others) when they said we shouldn't do this, for...well. For being my styngy self. I hate it. Don't go maternal and tell me not to. This is one instance where, if you don't let me hate myself, it'll run unchecked, and who knows where I'll end up. I need to. Let me. Oh. And while it may not seem like it now, I'm almost fairly maybe confident that it'll all work out. And who knows? Maybe I'll kick my cliche habit.

Oh Joy

I gotted my schedule. Yay.

Intro to Anthropology, Intermediate Japanese, French, and Egyptian Art.

Oh yeah.

I think Imma die next semester. *nods*