Currently Transatlanticism By Death Cab for Cutie "The Sound of Settling" see related

Something's off, like brandy in my coffee. Sloppy metaphors and half-formed thoughts.

I do not handle disappointment well. I have known this about myself for some time.

Cue angsty music, change into comfortable and unattractive clothes; the day is over.

I thought you understood it, too.

If time is like a house we would share, then I have spent days sitting on the steps, in the yard, frustrated and disappointed and wondering why you're the only one with a key to the doors, why I have been turned out to allow others entrance for an afternoon. Because it's such a tiny house, there's barely room for another person in there. It's a compounding factor, this fact that we're already trying to fit two grown people into a hobbit hole. Some things are bound to be knocked off of shelves and broken. But, today, for instance -- we had plans! Today, it ought to have been me in the house. Or outside of it, wherever we decided to go. Unfair is... how a southern wind whisks through and nudges you; how you can't say no to it, despite protests you'd rather have kept our commitment; how I can't say no to it, as it's already decided. Later, when you profess your disappointment, I absolve you. You identify us as victims of our conflicting schedules; I validate your position as you validated mine. I hear your reasons. Doesn't need to be a big deal. And yet... to my heart, you stood me up. You are the captain of your fate, as you have said to me. Guess there's been a mutiny. Instead, we indict Miscommunication -- it was clear, you say you thought, and I insist to you that it was not at all clear. Clarity would have left me free. Free to paint a mural on the space I'd left blank for you today.

When a woman says she's fine, she means it; but what she doesn't say is it's an acronym: Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional.

When it's already too late, I submit a final, meek request, tempered with understanding. I am good at being understanding. I don't want to be, but it's ingrained. Your "no" is appropriately meek in response. But, a "no" nonetheless. I try to imagine a world in which you would hear the overjustification in my numerous utterings of "it's okay" and just show up. Instead, I resign myself to feeling crappy for the rest of the crappy night following what didn't at all resemble the day I had been eagerly anticipating in order to get myself through a crappy week, knowing that eventually (soon) I'll get over it. Ah, well; add another to the tally of times you have left me hanging. Play a drinking game to it. Write a song about it. Whatever. In the meantime, I declare war on the phrase, "Let's play it by ear."