I might be working as a Hall Director at some godforsaken Junior college in the Midwest living vicariously through my undergraduate sorority sisters with their whole lives ahead of them.
I love you.I hate you.I love to hate you.
I might have bummed my way through Tisch School of the Arts in New York writing poetry and plays for other broke artists in alphabet city, rocking my natural do and being a lesbian vegan.
I might still have a crush on your best friend.
I love you.I hate you.I love to hate you.
I might be a single, childless lounge singer laying across pianos nightly in Branson, Missouri with a coke habit and a taste for the ponies.
I might be dead.
I love you.I hate you.I hate to love you.
I might be married to Fred because he had the most serious crush on me in high school suffocating in suburbia with our 2.5 kids, living in a nice ranch style home on the edge of the city with our minivan and our tv commercial dog, Bowser, hosting bbqs in the summer for our church friends.
If I had never known you, I might not have ever felt pain.
I might not have ever grown up.
I love you.I hate you.I hate to love you.
I might not be sitting here, reminiscing, about all of the other doors that I could have opened, If I had never known you.
In a way, my scars are signs of life-that I might still be trying to earn,
If I had never known you.
My Mind, My Mood, My delicately poisoned pen... 