I have ten-thousand dollars, ten thousand wishes. And it is all thanks to you. (all thanks to:) Your vileness. Your stupidity. Your selfishness and ego. And mine too, of course. I'm no white lamb; but at least I fess up to it. (most of the time.)
I have ten-thousand dollars, ten thousand wishes. Each one stuck in a moment of time; a moment of awful and pedantic misery.
(yes, stranger! i'm in my feelings, but only for five more minutes! just let me be, okay?)
I have ten-thousand dollars, ten thousand wishes. And while the tears dry up on my pillow, I lay down quietly and wonder how I'll spend them.
Therapy? No. (no r.o.i. when it comes to the physical) A new car? No. (can't drive—yet; i'm too scared!) A room to live? No. (i have one that's (currently) physically free, even if being there rips my soul apart.) Food maybe, just for me to eat? No. (no r.o.i when it comes to the physical) (and dying of hunger would be easy too! why? well..... because then, i'd finally die, knowing i'm a size two!)
So then, what should I do? With my ten-thousand dollars, and ten-thousand wishes, too?
Maybe a book? (or two?) A toy for my dog or a subscription to Hulu? An imaginary apartment in New York City? The love of my life or an autograph or two? Or how about a table at the best restaurant in town? Or even better—how about a chance to start over?
Awaaaayyyyyy Awaaaayyyyyy Away. From. You.
From your ten-thousand reasons, and ten-thousand thorns too.