feel it

Sitting out here in the front yard.
Wine.
Wifi.
A fag.
Nachos and salsa.
Nothing special...
but myself.
I forgot all about myself.
I was out for a couple of nights.
And I missed this.
I missed talking alone.
Writing alone.
Feeling alone.
Feeling it.
Just feeling it.
I had no time to feel it.
Now I have no choice, and it's a good thing.

I read about James Frey on the net.
Some site says they investigated his life story and it turned out to be an exaggeration.
A hoax.
But I like James Frey and his writing inspires me and I don't care if he made all that up.
I'll still keep reading his book and feeling his fears and mourning his loss and celebrating his recovery.
So what if he wasn't a hardcore drug addict and wanted in several states.
If he felt that there was a need to make things appear bigger than they are then he should express it in writing.
If he felt absolutely shattered then he should let his readers feel it.
I didn't have a tragic break-up.
It was just SMS that broke the bad news to me.
But it shook my insides and I felt like I died.
And even after that death it was still painful.
And it still haunts me.
Every inch of me aches when I think about it.
And no matter how much I drink and how many songs I sing and how many friends I spend my time with I still grieve.
Sad.
So a quiet text message destroyed my spirit and it's just so hard to rebuild it.
Wherever James is, send him my love.

Ok that was just a glass of wine.
But paired with solitude the truth just flowed like a stream.
From my mind, to my fingers, to the keyboard.

So here's a toast...
With no one...
To feeling it!