My Trip this Weekend

Here is another song that seems to hit the mark.
I think this is one of the things that she really hates about me. This thing I have with music.

Never the less, there was something about the highway, something about the rain, and something about how the music put it all together. It was like the music was the glue that held the memories of the events of the weekend, the rain, the gray, the highway, the spray from the
trucks, the gloominess of it all together. It seemed to make it whole, make it real. As I drove back to Arizona, I kept thinking of the look on the children's faces the sadness, the grayness of the day, the autumn.

And at some point I knew on that Saturday that I had seen all I wanted to see that day. The past truely is dead but my brain wants to keep it alive. It seems that every little realization, every little glimpse of this fact, I go into emotional convulsions of crying. Sometimes it's not
crying but anger towards her. I think of her as a really cold ruthless bitch like her sister.
Mostly though it is the crying.

I cried and screamed in this pain last night.