men who think they're important: cause and consequence.

"you think you're important, boy i got bad news, you're mean and you're boring. they'll all forget you" - nessa barrett, pins and needles.

when men think they're important, souls are crushed and women cry.

you're only young my dear, you're but 17 and that boy you met at 15 is not the love of your life. he's not important yet you built a pedestal for him to sit on, and turned your white blood cells into his soldiers. you may deny it, but your calloused palms will reveal truth and let you down. you hold a chip on your shoulder against a man that only fucked you over because you let him. 

a man, who is the man, who is your man thinks he's important. he grew up with a single mother who worshipped the ground that her baby walked on and will continue to do so even in rigor mortis. maybe if you tried a little harder, you could've been just like her and then maybe you would've been a worthy bride. are you serious? you're not fooling anyone.

but you won't be his bride and another woman's babies will flaunt his eyes and share his nose.

and so, you'll search for your man in every other one you meet, but what are you searching for? his laugh, smile, the way he held you after making you cry? so you'll pick up smoking because a joint shares the taste of his mouth and a high shares his warmth, and you'll kill yourself slowly wishing to go back to a past that doesn't want you to come back.

men don't think they're important for no god damn reason but because you altered your celestial mechanics and changed your trajectory towards someone who was never a star and you most certainly were not his world. what else was he supposed to think? unfortunately, you made yourself both the cause and felt the consequence of a falsehood of importance.

however, life won't hold for your broken heart and time moves, but you'll be ok. maybe you'll find a nice man, or you'll date a kind girl and become their own personal hell and whilst you'll both make it out and it will be ok eventually, it's a shame your pain turned cyclical. once rose coloured glasses are removed, and you'll stop calling your dealer, and clarity comes once you can finally breathe. your blood will replenish, your palms will recover, and you will be alright.