Maybe
They’re saying this and that, people are coming through, people I don’t quite know but I’ve seen them before. I’ll spy them out and sometimes there’s some girls, these girls, the ones maybe I can talk to. I never have the drive, I’ll never conjure up the balls to say something. And maybe it’s because I don’t have that kind of game, or maybe I don’t have that swagger, or maybe I just don’t have that confidence. I can’t make it happen. I know it. They know it. That’s where it ends. Maybe I’m thinking about failing. Maybe I’m thinking about doing it, or doing something, and relegating myself to the notion that it just won’t happen. Maybe I know too much, maybe I know too little. Maybe I’m just afraid. Maybe I didn’t work hard enough. I know i’ve never worked hard enough. I worked for you. But it didn’t work. So maybe that plays a part in the fact that I’m scared to try anything at all. Ever. Who knows? Maybe I do. Maybe I tried one time, that one time in the car, and it didn’t work out and I can’t get past that. Maybe everything I ever wanted was right there and I fucked it up like everything I never worked for. Who knows? I do. Maybe I care too much. Maybe I want things I can’t have because, maybe, they aren’t there for me to have. Maybe this last whiskey was one whisky too many and now I’m feeling like it’s too much. Maybe I’ll go outside and smoke a cigarette or several and think about how maybe I could have handled that shit differently. Who knows? Maybe I’ll think about hitting up your friend, our friend, the one with the pale skin and long hair, the one we all know, and maybe she’ll come back and say, Hey let’s hang out. Maybe that will work out, and my hope will fulfill and anything any of us have ever felt about anyone else won’t matter and we’ll make it happen. Maybe she’s all I ever really wanted. But maybe my priorities have been fucked from the begining (girls, love, life, success, money) when all along, the way these girls act, it should have been: success, money, fame, girls. I don’t know. Maybe I love “love” too much. Maybe? I’ll probably just wake up from that dream, whiskey soaked, something from a dream. Maybe I’ll talk to you one night at the bar, two beers down and several to go, and i’ll ask you what the Hell happened between the two of us. The answer, just maybe, will be, because we just found each other at the wrong time. More often than not it will be, because you’re an ass and a drunk and you wreck everything that is good and potentially good in your life. Maybe that’s the case. I know. Maybe one night, cold and dark and completely uncalled for, you will say something that sends me off, Mars style, and I can’t come back, and I don’t come back, except for when I say things no man should say to any woman, especially to someone they love. Maybe that’s what it takes. Maybe I’m done after that? Heads up – I am. You let me know. That’s where we, where I, fuck it all up. Maybe I never knew what I was capable of and, as an excuse, maybe I say, well it runs in the family (as if that’s an excuse?). Who knows? Maybe I’m drunk right now, writing this shit, repenting like a catholic kid, no excuse, no explanation, except that, well, maybe I’m an asshole. That’s the definition of me. Plain and simple. So it plays out. It’s not Ten Things, it’s not Boy Meets World. That shit will. Not. Work. Out. I can’t get away with the things I do. This isn’t a Hollywood fantasy, perfect love-kind-of-story. Never works that way, no matter how hard you want it. I can’t change. Maybe I try, so hard, harder than anything, but it never works. Who knows? I know. That’s the way of things. Maybe this never happened at all. Maybe my regret of everything, ever has finally caught up to my ambitions. Maybe my priorities (girls, life, success) were never in sync with what my actual priorities should have been (life, success, money, girls). Who knows? But maybe you forgive me, maybe for just a minute, and I feel like I can move on because it’s all finally okay. But it’s really not. Maybe, like before, I’ll be drunk, and maybe I’ll get lucky, just maybe, and just maybe I’ll John Bonham that shit and no one will ever have to think about “maybe” again.
