Does anyone want to have a remembery moment with me about this? In middle school, I loved him. Oh man, I loved him. We were to be married and have babies with tiny nipples and stringy hair. He sang Glycerine to me like, every night, crooning from his place in the (insanely large) collage I made of him on my wall, having pillaged my Dad’s color printer.

Must be your skin that I’m sinkin in
Must be for real cause now I can feel
and I didn’t mind
it’s not my kind
not my time to wonder why
everything’s gone white
and everything’s grey
now your here now you away
I don’t want this
remember that
I’ll never forget where your at
don’t let the days go by

That’s right Gavin. You’re right.

Leave a Reply