Its funny how life can fall apart in 3 days.

I know this isn't exactly class material, but it is my heart, or what is left of it, and I think that the deepest and most sincere literature comes from the heart.


I stand and look around the room in silence, a crumpled, tearstained piece of paper in my hand, remembering everything, all the memories, all the laughter, all the tears as I try to choke back my own sobs. I walk to the fireplace, retrieving my sorry excuse for a pot, which I cradle carefully in one arm as I set the paper in it's place. I turn my back on it, and with a wave of my hand, every other trace of me that has ever existed here is gone, vanished, everything but that little scrap of paper. A closer look at it would reveal these words:

Anyway
By Smeg

Have you ever felt like you simply must drop your load,
Anyone and Everything in it,
cause they never cared wiether you were there to hold them or not,
and you are being crushed by the weight.
The world doesn't care that you're gone,
cause you no longer care that it's there.
So you float along, alone in the dark,
Nothing makes sense, but that doesn't matter
Cause there is no one to try and explain it too.
Your existance meant nothing to anyone
And now that you see, you realize
None of it mattered anyway.
You never mattered anyway.
I never mattered anyway...

I walk silently out the door, past the place where my Stang was once parked, still carrying that pot, the one memory I can even still smile at, though it turns to ashes in my hands with every step that I take. Soon it is gone, and I am gone too, disappearing into my darkness, consumed.