Rocket Man, or in the vein of Hank Moody

I hate to disappoint, but I begin with this:

Love suffers long. Love is kind; it is not jealous. Love does not brag and is not puffed up; it does not behave unbecomingly and does not seek its own things; it is not provoked and does not take account of evil; it does not rejoice because of unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; it covers all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never falls away. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

I don’t know what to do. Today may have been the last time I kiss her lips, touched her in the way lovers naturally do. Five years with her and tomorrow, when I wake up, she won’t be there like she used to. Instead, we will try to reinvent what we had in the past. Will it last this time, most likely. We haven’t officially broken up as she is in that confused stage and I’m just distraught by the events happening. I think that the world beneath me is once again the rocky edged road. I’m too worn out to write. Think I’m going to lay down, take a breath.

What happens from here? There are two outcomes, right? The great path will that this will blow over and we can proceed with our life together; the other is rough and I don’t think I’m in the mood of thinking about it. I was hoping to write an entire blog. But I keep blanking out. So many emotions, so little time.

Fuck.

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Now playing: My Morning Jacket - Rocket Man
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