My iTunes chronicles my life. I have playlists for every phase, every person, every success, every calamity that has ever occurred to me. Insomnia, airport wandering, college apps, heartbreak, listlessness, feminism, attempted murder, happiness, anticipation, mothers-unexpected-pregnancy, you name it. I also have playlists for stupid things, like CDs I made for your car that you would never listen to anyway (your loss).
This morning I woke up thinking of you. You were in my dream wearing an ascot and ordering tenderloin without being condescending. I think that’s unfair on multiple levels and though I recognize that it isn't your fault that I am mindfucking myself, I resent you so much for it.
I realize I think of you more than I should. That in a way, I subconsciously worry about your happiness much more than mine as if sacrificing my shot will make yours less painful. Which is probably only slightly more idiotic than disliking you based on a dream. Someone said something profound to me recently : Being jaded is romantic. Moving on isn't.
I'm listening to a playlist YOU made for your car and it reminds me of how different we are; this whole CD consists of coldplay and lil wayne. I don't think I could ever drive to weezy talking about pussy and hacking up a lung. Ugh. I have six playlists with your name explicitly on them, and several others I probably made for you anyway. I could delete them, but that would be boring. Or I could listen to them on a random Friday night instead of going out and remember what it was like to be with you. In a good way. =)
