Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Everything Must Belong Somewhere
.[sixteen].
0 reviewshey ladies, i got cheated/played, so give me some love. god knows i'm not getting any of that at the moment. i accept reviews. or cash.
0Unrated
Sometimes I feel the only thing that keeps me alive is breathing. It isn’t a passion for living, or a hope that things will get better, or a need to feel like a part of something bigger than myself. I don’t think my heart even has anything to do with it. No, it’s just that involuntary motion of inhaling and exhaling.
Pathetic, isn’t it? That I’m only twenty three and feeling this disappointed in life already. It’s disgusting, actually.
My heart pumps blood to the rest of my body and in order to stay alive and I have nothing to do with it. Sometimes I allow myself reminisce about the times that I made my heart beat myself. I allow myself to reminisce about the time that friends made my heart beat. Not only friends, but love, and more notably, a black haired, girl jean wearing, bassist. All of those times seem so long ago now. Moments turn into memories and then they’re gone, I suppose.
I tiptoed downstairs to use the computer. At three twenty-eight in the morning, I doubted anyone else was awake. I soon found out I was wrong, as I of course would have to be. Fucking luck, man. I lack it.
Without looking up, he acknowledged my presence.
“I’d rather write than sleep.” He spoke.
“I’d rather listen than speak.” Pete nodded as he wordlessly showed me he understood what I was hinting at. At some point in time he rolled the computer chair around to face me and my position on the couch. I couldn’t actually pinpoint exactly when he had done so because I was too busy focusing on the fact that the two sentences we had just spoken rhymed. And moreso, I was too busy focusing on the fact that he had neglected to comment on it. I sure as hell would have. That would have been a perfect opportunity for sarcastic teasing.
“It’s occurred to me that there are certain aspects of my life that are completely over.” He spoke these words to me as if it were a ground breaking revelation. To me it was just obvious.
“And more than that,” He continued. “I can’t even recall when these times ended. There was no exact moment, they just progressively stopped.” Seriously? He really isn’t going to comment on the rhyming? Obviously, it’s a good thing I was still preferring to listen instead of speak .
“There are certain parts of my life that are never going to happen again, that I failed to even acknowledge their demise, that don’t even seem like they ever happened to me.” Pete honeslty looked pained over this discovery and some part of me empathisezed with him wholeheartedly, as I understood exactly, but, really, all I’m saying is that it would have been a perfect well-timed ridicule. I mean, seriously.
“I don’t want you to fall into that category, Charley. I don‘t want to feel like you never happened to me.”
I stopped obsessing over the rhyme scheme as his words crashed over me like a wave, engulfing and taking me with them.
As he stood up, he sent the computer chair back a few inches. He seemed hesitant, yet awkwardly confident with each step he took closer to me. He took to his knees and made himself eye level with me. I moved into his warm hand as he cradled my face. It was something I didn’t know I had been missing until I was presented with the opportunity of having it again.
He leaned in and I was aware of what was going to happen next. I chose not to fight it. I chose not to even think about it. I just let it happen.
The second his lips touched mine, I was reminded of the definition of ‘home’. This town felt like home. Pete felt like home. His lips, his hands, his words. They all evoked emotion in me so strong that I felt like getting tangled up in this feeling, and him, and his arms and nothing but until time ended.
Laying me down gently and crawling on top of me even more so, Pete continued to kiss me until I was dizzy from feeling so much in such a short length of time.
We fell asleep together on that couch without much consideration for the morning or the morning after that. We fell asleep together on that couch concerned with these moments and these moments only.
Pathetic, isn’t it? That I’m only twenty three and feeling this disappointed in life already. It’s disgusting, actually.
My heart pumps blood to the rest of my body and in order to stay alive and I have nothing to do with it. Sometimes I allow myself reminisce about the times that I made my heart beat myself. I allow myself to reminisce about the time that friends made my heart beat. Not only friends, but love, and more notably, a black haired, girl jean wearing, bassist. All of those times seem so long ago now. Moments turn into memories and then they’re gone, I suppose.
I tiptoed downstairs to use the computer. At three twenty-eight in the morning, I doubted anyone else was awake. I soon found out I was wrong, as I of course would have to be. Fucking luck, man. I lack it.
Without looking up, he acknowledged my presence.
“I’d rather write than sleep.” He spoke.
“I’d rather listen than speak.” Pete nodded as he wordlessly showed me he understood what I was hinting at. At some point in time he rolled the computer chair around to face me and my position on the couch. I couldn’t actually pinpoint exactly when he had done so because I was too busy focusing on the fact that the two sentences we had just spoken rhymed. And moreso, I was too busy focusing on the fact that he had neglected to comment on it. I sure as hell would have. That would have been a perfect opportunity for sarcastic teasing.
“It’s occurred to me that there are certain aspects of my life that are completely over.” He spoke these words to me as if it were a ground breaking revelation. To me it was just obvious.
“And more than that,” He continued. “I can’t even recall when these times ended. There was no exact moment, they just progressively stopped.” Seriously? He really isn’t going to comment on the rhyming? Obviously, it’s a good thing I was still preferring to listen instead of speak .
“There are certain parts of my life that are never going to happen again, that I failed to even acknowledge their demise, that don’t even seem like they ever happened to me.” Pete honeslty looked pained over this discovery and some part of me empathisezed with him wholeheartedly, as I understood exactly, but, really, all I’m saying is that it would have been a perfect well-timed ridicule. I mean, seriously.
“I don’t want you to fall into that category, Charley. I don‘t want to feel like you never happened to me.”
I stopped obsessing over the rhyme scheme as his words crashed over me like a wave, engulfing and taking me with them.
As he stood up, he sent the computer chair back a few inches. He seemed hesitant, yet awkwardly confident with each step he took closer to me. He took to his knees and made himself eye level with me. I moved into his warm hand as he cradled my face. It was something I didn’t know I had been missing until I was presented with the opportunity of having it again.
He leaned in and I was aware of what was going to happen next. I chose not to fight it. I chose not to even think about it. I just let it happen.
The second his lips touched mine, I was reminded of the definition of ‘home’. This town felt like home. Pete felt like home. His lips, his hands, his words. They all evoked emotion in me so strong that I felt like getting tangled up in this feeling, and him, and his arms and nothing but until time ended.
Laying me down gently and crawling on top of me even more so, Pete continued to kiss me until I was dizzy from feeling so much in such a short length of time.
We fell asleep together on that couch without much consideration for the morning or the morning after that. We fell asleep together on that couch concerned with these moments and these moments only.
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