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feeling alone again
with nothin' better to do
than wonder what I'll ever do

I could watch a movie with myself
or teach myself a new lick
but where's the fun in that?

what else could I do?
so I took a walk out in the dark
strolled on down that road

I knew where I was headed
to sit down by the river and cry
and watch my tears wash away

thinkin' about her, and that pretty girl
wonder what she's up to
certainly havin' a blast

in a room full of friends
inhibition jammed at the door
laughin' about nothin' at all

but I wasn't invited
and I've got nowhere to be
and they don't care anyway

I don't know what to do
so I'll go down by the river and cry
but my tears are all washed away

runnin' in circles again
tellin' myself it can't be helped
every step forward is two steps below

I'm headin' down by the river
but I ain't in the mood to cry
I clutch at the darkness and wonder why

I turn myself around
and climb the many stairs
I see her face in that place

but she don't see me
not like she ever has
so I just sit there and die

when I'm done bein' dead
I pick myself up and walk away
didn't get what I came for anyway

I ain't goin' to the river this time
so I'll lie in bed and cry
but my tears are bound to soak me dry
I don't want to sound melodramatic - and, surely, people in this world have worse things to trouble over than heartbreak - but when the girl of my dreams rejected me, I sank into the deepest depression of my life (even still, to this day). To not even be able to inspire hatred or disgust, but mere indifference, from a person that I thought meant so much to me - it shattered my self-confidence. I didn't see the point in anything anymore - even things that had previously excited me.

It took years for me to fully and finally crawl out of my funk, but not before my entire life's trajectory had been derailed. To be fair, that was due to a number of issues beyond this one, but it was all part of one poisonous cocktail of factors that took the wind out of my sails (yay for mixed metaphors!). That's what this poem is about.

It's a true story: me describing my feelings regarding the activities of one Saturday night. (My truest homage to Janis Joplin's concept of "the Great Saturday Night Heist"). Featured in it is the spot down by the river where I liked to go to get away from the hustle and bustle of campus, to be alone, and think things over. I was going to use a photograph of that spot for the cover of my planned album of spoken poetry.
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Submitted on
March 13
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