They Could Take or Leave You

So they took you.
And they left you.

Love that line.

I wrote a song tonight and I think it speaks pretty well what I've been trying to write in lyrics for a while. It's called "I Saw You".

It starts out with kind of a demand for things to be like they once were. It's kind of weird, like wanting even the bad things about a person again because you miss them so much. Then the next verse is about the person, how they're looking at who they used to be and they're disappointed. I guess it's a love song where nobody can be happy.

[There's still those little stupid, meaningless moments about you that I remember. I remember when I got to Christina's house on that morning so we could all drive down to South Padre and you were sitting there with a grey beanie on, and you just looked so sweet.]

Then I go into the chorus, yay. The chorus is not really a true chorus, because the words change each time, but the tune stays the same. But basically each time it's sung, it's about a different moment where I saw him. Like saw, seeing something real about a person, a minute where something just hits you and you know you won't forget that. The first one is about that time we were in the closet after we said we'd stop acting like we were dating and we were looking at his old class notebooks. I looked up and he was standing close and looked like he wanted to kiss me. I end it with "Shoulda done it." Like something should have been done, maybe it'd be different now.

Next verse is about what happens after you break up. You have to avoid places, which sucks, because those same places used to bring so much joy. Then I talk more about those places (they're so important!) and how we'd hide there from the real world, making up our own problems and stories until we had to come back out again, strong enough to face reality.

Now two more choruses, two more moments I saw you.

I remember how I went to your show and you played that song; I was trying so hard to figure out if it was about me, because that was important. I was thinking that if you just looked at me and smiled or gave some sign, I could know. But you didn't. Later I realized that you wrote me nice songs, but they meant more to me than they did to you, because (let's not fool ourselves; we all know:) I loved you a lot more. You wrote them and you'd teach them to me, but I think they made more sense when I sang them, because to me, it meant something completely crazy beautiful. Then I say, I shoulda known. I shoulda known then, and I shoulda done it, kept you. I also say that I shouldn't have let you let me go. Because I don't know if I truly let you go, but I let you let me go. I saw what was happening and let it happen, because I thought you'd be happy that way.

Then there's one of my favorite moments, that night out back on the trampoline when Claire de Lune was blasting on the speakers. It felt surreal to be jumping around under the stars with that song, and I remember how we were laughing, and I'd seen you laugh before, but you were laughing really hard because I was jumping and running away funny. I loved that laugh, it was the best one I'd heard from you. It made me so happy just to see you smiling and laughing, and it made me even happier that I was the one making you smile. At that moment, I thought maybe you could love me. But you couldn't. I realized I should have stayed behind and not left town, because I hated where I went and I also lost you, which oddly I regret.

So that's that.