Free will is the best drug there is. Of all the things that I could choose to intoxicate myself with; a woman's love, the feeling of accomplishment, one last jump off a diving board, I think free will would have to be at the top of that list. It is the epitome of life. Chaos and discourse, wanting to live alone but knowing you have six billion neighbors no matter how far away you think the stars are. Our ability to stay or walk away gives us something most other creatures don't seem to have - a chance to disconnect.

Cutting your ties and cutting your losses. Admitting you were wrong; admitting she was wrong, more like it. We used to say our "I-love-you's" and what-have-you's, but after a mangled year of false connect and irrevocably distant disconnect we just seemed to have lost touch. And that's something that has always blown my mind. I used to look at pictures of her and contemplate the meaning of God and now I see pictures of her, a ghost in a shell, and I see nothing I can connect with anymore. She seems to be the same person; perhaps I just found out all those dirty little secrets people never want you to know. If she was the wolf at the door I never answered and then winter came and washed it all away. No more stoop to sleep on, no more crows to sing your songs...just a lot of disconnected ambitions and sour honey.

Funny, the ways we seem to deal with people. Sharp negatives, false positives, constantly wading through all the bullshit to find a resemblance of something real. And though we find ourselves certain of people at one time or another they often find ways to let us down. When people let us down we like to rationalize and associate them with nicknames so our memories don't fall short of rehashing the good times during good moments of good reminiscence. Nothing is more important than making sure you draw a line down the middle of people so you can see both their faces. Romantically, we too often let our guards down; people knife you in the back, we spoon the people we love, some people come to a fork in the road and after a lifelong of nicknames we are left to feel that our entire lives were just a metaphorical dinner party existing in an everlasting, parallel universe adjacent to our being in the here and now. But no matter how you slice it, people will always find excuses to split.

A dear John letter, a fuck you text message, or just getting dressed in the morning and leaving before you wake up. People are often their most diligent, their most creative, when they are forced into a situation they wish they could get out of. Sold my soul for a box of matches just so I can burn her doors down. Sold my soul for a bowl of ice to show her I can swallow cold, swallow calm, swallow shallow and swallow gold. Neon lights are pointing at you when you sneak out at night, you just don't realize it. What are you trying to run from? Why do we find reasons to publicize our private lives and complain when you don't ask about that which we do not speak of? Sometimes I wish I weren't invited to her parties but I'm upset every time I don't get an invitation. You don't ignore me, I ignore you, and our push and shove relationship can thrive behind our four glass walls made up of chewing fat, MySpace, eyeliner and basketball - anything to forget about all the things I have to remember. Because all the things I have to remember are what make me a melting pot. Not always as bright as I should be, but I know enough horticulture to exploit another whore to culture. Don't give me your apologies, just give me your shame. I'll figure out the rest in the morning before you've woken up.