Won't have a soul for to wake up and hold you...

Fiction

I have a 'gloomy disposition' again. A psychiatrist would say it's because of a lack of confidence, or the inability to connect with other people my age. In one foul analysation of me, and I will be mapped forever psychologically. My problems would be black and white, remedied with pills and weekly visits to 'heal.' It isn't psycology that bothers me, no, not the psychologists--frankly, I really think it is an interesting topic of study. No--it has to be the psychiatrists that get me. To hear what 'normal' was and what 'normal' people do, how 'normal' people cope and how I am not 'normal' would be all to much for my taste. I'm not crazy but I'm not normal, and I really have no chemical imbalances. I heared a Belle and Sebastian song the other day and it is inspiring me to write a screenplay... or something. That's a start of it, character development you know. I'm jumping on it.

I wrote a letter on a nothing day
I asked somebody “Could you send my letter away?”
“You are too young to put all of your hopes in just one envelope”
I said goodbye to someone that I love
It’s not just me, I tell you it’s the both of us
And it was hard
Like coming off the pills that you take to stay happy
Someone above has seen me do alright
Someone above is looking with a tender eye
Upon her face, you may think you’re alone but you may think again
If I could do just one near perfect thing I’d be happy
They’d write it on my grave, or when they scattered my ashes
On second thoughts I’d rather hang about and be there with my best friend
If she wants me

And far away somebody read the letter
He condescends to read the words I wrote about him
And if he smiles, it’s no more than a genius deserves
For all his curious nerve and his passion

I’m going deaf, you’re growing melancholy
Things fall apart, I don’t know why we bother at all
But life is good and “It’s always worth living at least for a while”

If I could do just one near perfect thing I’d be happy
They’d write it on my grave, or when they scattered my ashes
On second thoughts I’d rather hang about and be there with my best friend
If she wants me

If you think to yourself “What should I do now?”
Then take the baton, girl, you better run with it
There is no point in standing in the past cause it’s over and done with

I took a book and went into the forest
I climbed the hill, I wanted to look down on you
But all I saw was twenty miles of wilderness so I went home