Imagine too again I’m old

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You and me.
Walking on earth.
That’s the only way I’ll listen.
Every other time you want to bring it up.
I’m not.
I’m out.
On a call.
Working out.
Finishing dishes.
In the middle of something.
I just don’t want to.
You know?
I really really don’t.
I know how much that hurts you.
(If I told you.)
(Of course I’d never tell you.)
(That would be stupid.)
(Seriously. For a moment; grown man shit.)
(That would be fucking stupid.)
But I don’t.
Maybe I’m too old.
I probably am. Can you imagine me doing this whole thing again?
And I’m too young.
For real.
At this age? Can you imagine me doing this whole thing now?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I met a guy that once said he couldn’t use that phrase.
“I don’t know.”
Wasn’t allowed to say that in the house.
Then someone asked him…
“Well, what if you really didn’t know?”
(Which was the whole fucking point.)
(Hated that kid. The kid that said that.)
(That kid didn’t convince. That kid whined to get his way.)
(Hate whiners.)
The guy said…
“If I didn’t know — I had to find out.”
If I did know. The whole thing.
Can you imagine me doing this?
Too young?
Doing dishes?
Too old?
Working out?
Walking on earth?
Gun to my head?
It’s not that I don’t know.

It’s just because it’s me.

(And you.)


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