Post by Deleted on Mar 11, 2015 2:59:34 GMT
thinking about her made him want to listen to pop punk.
and kieran never listened to fucking pop punk. ever. sure, punk was great and grunge was his main thing, but pop punk. all it talked about was having friends and finding your girl all set to the same five chords and upbeat drum riffs.
but she made him want to listen to pop punk, and he didn't know why, exactly.
he was laying on his shitty creaky bed in his shitty little apartment with his hands holding his head, tangled in his hair which probably needed a good washing by now, but who even cared? it's not like kieran was trying to impress someone.
except now maybe he was. but it didn't matter, it's not like someone like her would fall for a loser like him.
twenty-seven years old and thinking about a crush like he's twelve. it was almost gross. it almost made him want to write a song about it or something but that just brought him right back to the pop punk bullshit. he didn't write songs about perfect girls that made him feel lightheaded.
so he flopped over on his stomach and buried his head in the pillow. what felt like hours spanned about five minutes until he eventually gave up, grabbing his phone and headphones and, with anger behind his thumbs, punched taking back sunday into the safari search bar.
he was going to listen to pop punk, but he wasn't going to like it.
the first stage was always denial.
and kieran never listened to fucking pop punk. ever. sure, punk was great and grunge was his main thing, but pop punk. all it talked about was having friends and finding your girl all set to the same five chords and upbeat drum riffs.
but she made him want to listen to pop punk, and he didn't know why, exactly.
he was laying on his shitty creaky bed in his shitty little apartment with his hands holding his head, tangled in his hair which probably needed a good washing by now, but who even cared? it's not like kieran was trying to impress someone.
except now maybe he was. but it didn't matter, it's not like someone like her would fall for a loser like him.
twenty-seven years old and thinking about a crush like he's twelve. it was almost gross. it almost made him want to write a song about it or something but that just brought him right back to the pop punk bullshit. he didn't write songs about perfect girls that made him feel lightheaded.
so he flopped over on his stomach and buried his head in the pillow. what felt like hours spanned about five minutes until he eventually gave up, grabbing his phone and headphones and, with anger behind his thumbs, punched taking back sunday into the safari search bar.
he was going to listen to pop punk, but he wasn't going to like it.
the first stage was always denial.
