cameron sheedy

yuck

i sing the lyrics as we approach the ocean which is resting beneath the largest expanse of sky i've seen in i don't know how long and i'm wondering how anyone can be stressed in LA when there's this i'm having a hard time sorting through all the details of last night a dim blur of people and places but i remember our midnight kiss and the sayings you invented before falling asleep next to me a smile still on your lips  we're sitting on the beach now and the salty ocean air is filling my eager lungs and i'm thinking and i know it's gonna be a good year 

you can't sing really your voice sounds like something is dying within it you stood right in front of me and abused your vocal chords with such conviction i could hear you over the loudest music my phone contains all the noise created such a nasty headache that i actually thought i might vomit and when you finally felt it was time to stop and you held that cup in front of my face with naive expectation in your eyes i gave you all the cash i had and i'm glad i did because that's what the fucking christmas spirit is all about

and that felt important

a bunch of us shared the plate of fries i must have had five in total but they were large fries in retrospect and raw garlic is always the worst i think it’s seeping out of my pores now i’m sick to my stomach of course it’s raining like this today i think my entire ceiling might just fall in if it doesn’t stop soon i won’t be here though to see it come crashing down i’ll be with lilly at a clinic in midtown because we made it through the apocalypse but the world is still ending in a very specific kind of way i still have last nights conversation stuck in my head andrew and i wishing i was a boy so we could date how good we’d be together if only i was his type biologically speaking that is and me thinking how strangely tragic that this wasn’t the first drunk conversation of this kind i’ve had this week

i don't know where they come from but they keep showing up after too many drinks and yesterday's impromptu bourbon tasting must have put me over the edge but we were having so much fun and neither of us are good at knowing when it's time to stop i think there's an imaginary box that exists somewhere between us where we keep all those drunken memories that are best kept stored away let's always put the crying in that box, okay? because i don't know when i became a person who cries it's a fairly new thing i've tried blaming it on birth control but i think my emotions just lie so close to the surface now and sometimes they entirely overwhelm me and that turns into crying those tears mean something to me but not the drunk ones those tears don't mean anything other than a smear of mascara on a napkin you'll take a picture of and hashtag it as art 

and that felt like progress

on your walk of shame this morning i thought of saying it was a slap in the face how quickly i was replaced are you thinking of me when you fuck her then i remembered those are alanis morissette lyrics and complimented your shoes instead

and tell myself never again