She wants to write a love story with me, I can tell. What I can’t tell is if she knows how those stories usually end, or how this one’s going to end. Me…I know how this one will. I know how they all end. I like how they start, but the far side of the book has those painful pages I’d just as soon never even read again, much less write in a shakier-than-usual scrawl.
But she seems insistent on diving headlong into getting herself hurt. I attract masochists, I’ve known that for a long time. They’d have to enjoy self-inflicted pain to be attracted to me, after all. Whether I say no now or let her discover down the road that no, “it’s not you, it’s me” is NOT just a movie trope or lame escape mechanism, she’s chasing after disappointment, heartache, & maybe some tears and a pint of cookies n’ cream and long, late talks with her mother.
Maybe I ought to show her a good time a few nights to ease the sting of the inevitable. I haven’t decided.
A foray into some chilled-out downtempo electronic vibes…kinda with a vocalist in mind, hence the lack of lead melodies and whatnot. First track using the new Volca Beats analog drum machine. Hope y’all enjoy.