It's always been based upon a boy, a guy, a man but never myself. I turn back time and pages, just to scribble in a moment with them. My schedule is erased, and their names are inscribed all over the surfaces my life consumes.
What if my name was chiseled on-top of a gravestone, would it matter then- would all my wasted efforts be looked upon...
A name, then another, and so forth- just a number and a tear. Each was said to last, said to feel good, said to care- but look at me; I am just a number to them as well, a name, a girl, some chick from back in the day.
I wish I could say with time things change, but honestly time makes things worse... I don't think I can physically/mentally/emotionally, erase and rip out the pages of my life and have them blank. Maybe one day someone will fill me in-mark my name on a date, and remember me as a celebration.
But to me all thats left is the remainder of the days, and which name gets penciled where...
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