spooky july Season to Sleep 10 girls (Remix) xx (Cover)

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I don’t go back to bed. Shoving on Pete’s boots and coat, I walk out into the snow. 
Krumph, krumph. Krumph, krumph.

Cold January air runs its fingers through my hair and around my neck. I pull out his cigarettes and light one, holding the flame from the wind. Breathe out and up at the sky. The stars look like bowling pins, aligned and teetering. I’ve never been bowling.

I turn left down the street for no particular reason. Garbage spills out over the bins. Wrapping paper and broken ornaments blow and glisten. One house on the street’s already taken down their decorations, their home is all naked and exposed in the night lights. It’s better that way. 
They’ve got nothing to hide. 
This holiday garbage,
 it’s all  just a lie. 
It isn’t real. 
I see the comfort in it though –
 the comfort in something warm and beautiful when the world is so cold and shitty.

I haven’t thought about Mom for a long time. I get those nightmares when I’m unconscious, but in the waking world, she never crosses my mind. Who has time to remember things that don’t even exist anymore? Who’s to say they ever did? Fuck, I haven’t thought about Gabe for a long time. It’s like remembering a movie you saw once, years ago. That’s not your life. Just a plot, rehearsed and rehearsed. Ask me if I have a brother, I could say no, and it wouldn’t feel like a lie. That’s terrible, isn’t it? I’m a terrible sister, a terrible daughter, a terrible fuck... 
He’s been searching –
You know what?
 No. 
Time to give up the fantasy.
 I don’t know where he went; just that he never came back.

I wish he had gotten on some kind of list, at least then there would be a record of him.

Grow up July. 
No one’s coming to the rescue.

All the way down to the filter, I flick the cigarette into the snow. Don’t be a victim.

1976/7500

I don’t go back to bed. Shoving on Pete’s boots and coat, I walk out into the snow. Krumph, krumph. Krumph, krumph. Cold January air runs its fingers through my hair and around my neck. I pull out his cigarettes and light one, holding the flame from the wind. Breathe out and up at the sky. The stars look like bowling pins, aligned and teetering. I’ve never been bowling. I turn left down the street for no particular reason. Garbage spills out over the bins. Wrapping paper and broken ornaments blow and glisten. One house on the street’s already taken down their decorations, their home is all naked and exposed in the night lights. It’s better that way. They’ve got nothing to hide. This holiday garbage, it’s all just a lie. It isn’t real. I see the comfort in it though – the comfort in something warm and beautiful when the world is so cold and shitty. I haven’t thought about Mom for a long time. I get those nightmares when I’m unconscious, but in the waking world, she never crosses my mind. Who has time to remember things that don’t even exist anymore? Who’s to say they ever did? Fuck, I haven’t thought about Gabe for a long time. It’s like remembering a movie you saw once, years ago. That’s not your life. Just a plot, rehearsed and rehearsed. Ask me if I have a brother, I could say no, and it wouldn’t feel like a lie. That’s terrible, isn’t it? I’m a terrible sister, a terrible daughter, a terrible fuck... He’s been searching – You know what? No. Time to give up the fantasy. I don’t know where he went; just that he never came back. I wish he had gotten on some kind of list, at least then there would be a record of him. Grow up July. No one’s coming to the rescue. All the way down to the filter, I flick the cigarette into the snow. Don’t be a victim. All the way down to the filter, I flick the cigarette into the snow. Don’t be a victim. All the way down to the filter, I flick the cigarette into the snow. Don’t be a victim.

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