It’s OK to Punch Beer into Your Face

June 15, 2008

So, today was Katie and I’s official last hangout in Quakertown.  She’s moving to California tomorrow, to the other side of the country.

I haven’t realized yet that next time I’m driving around aimlessly bored and alone, I can’t call Katie and tell her I’m going to drop by and visit.  It hasn’t kicked in yet that next time I drive by her house, none of her stuff will be there.  All that’s left of her room I’ve spent most of my high school weekend nights in is a stained brown carpet and wood-paneled walls with little edges of tape stuck all around.  No more sitting around talking in the woodshed by moonlight at 3 in the morning, and no more playing guitar on the church steps.  No more eating spaghettios out of the can while playing Katamari Damacy, and no more telling Katie to ‘turn that shit down’ at John’s when she plays songs on the jukebox.  Her fish tank is humming silently next to me on the kitchen counter (I adopted them because she couldn’t take them with her), and the whole ordeal really hasn’t sunk in yet.  I feel like I’m going to see her again next weekend and go for a drive and listen to Slumlords, then drink ’til we puke and sleep well past noon.  But I’m not.  It’s strange.


One Response to “It’s OK to Punch Beer into Your Face”

  1. complete faggot. Says:

    I miss you taylor. Come visit. NOW!

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