I couldn't muster the hollywood 1990

bud, ubersitenews humor jokes music movies sports, open mic, web publishing tool, forum, funny pictures, nine inch nails, martin scorsese, blabbermouth.net, hard rock news, crazy, masturbation, photography, newspaper, comics, clever, reviews, 1990, ip address, nxne, peruvian, wave sound files, bulletin board, She saw you happy with me, deliriously happy, and something inside her wanted it to end.  I understood the idea of taking a break, actually. I mean, 7th grade is pretty early to find The One. But do we actually have control of hollywood these things, our hearts? And did you actually have to go through with it? Particularly the "dating other people" part? "You've got to move on." That's what my father would've droned, himself the epitome hollywood of someone who held on too long to something hollywood he should've let go: My mother and her rapid decline and death. He consistently refused shaving devices; he achieved five-minute-long blank stares; he drank 12-packs every night and forgot about work the next day. This, over a woman to whom he rarely uttered a passionate word. Fine, fine. And so I didn't tell him, and the whole weekend he thought his 12-year-old son was on heroin, but it was worse.
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I couldn't muster the courage to tell him the truth. Because he just would've asked the details, and when put into words, the details sound trivial compared to what I felt. The trivial details: Your mother told you to date other 1990 people. Your mother 1990 didn't really understand why we were so serious at such a young age. 1990 Your mother didn't understand the look on your face, or mine, when we sat with arms wrapped 'round each other on the sofa in front of your TV, safe for the night, the heater blowing warm dust particles here and there. But worst of all, hearing your Mom say these things, you didn't fight. You refused us for the words of a parent, the last person who understood you, the stranger who said you dressed like a tart and that you shouldn't wear your hair so and that you think you're smarter than you are; these words from your mother just masks for her own unhappiness over her own failure in life, masks for the reason she's living in a trailer on a creek where a dead body floated by one Sunday (a story that held me rapt), masks for the real reason your father left and now you're both all alone.
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