The Smashing Pumpkins’ Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness played non-stop between 1995-1997 in my room (poor, poor CD player). I was in a perpetual state of forlorn and misery as I stumbled into an abyss of depression that paralyzed me for too long.
I was in love with someone who no longer loved me, someone who had already moved on from our relationship, but I… I held onto words and memories that burned into my skin and I refused to let them go.
Why did things have to change? I immersed myself into a game of what ifs: what if I changed the color of my hair, what if my heels clicked instead of clacked, what if I changed who I was completely, would he even notice and love me again?
Once in awhile, we’d see each other somewhere and he’d say hi and smile at me – I’d translate that to something that wasn’t even there for him, but the emotions still lingered in me.
I breathed in this ridiculous notion that I was a whole person with him and without him I was a broken chord. I realized, later, that I was not in love with him, but with the idea of him and the idea of us.
Fuck. I’d like to kick 20-something me and say “What the hell, you idiot? Get the fuck over it.” I need to convince Carl that we need to get a DeLorean and travel into the past. There’s a screenplay here, I know it.