Why Am I Crying and Eating Spaghetti?

This can't be me
This cannot be me
This cannot be what has happened
To the amazing personality
I used to be

I am sitting here
I am eating spaghetti
I am crying
I am a loser

This is the definition of a loser
This is the gold medal of loser-ing

How did this happen?

Why is everything making me cry?

And why am I seeking it out?
Why did I put on 'The Sandlot'
Knowing I'd a wet sobbing mess
By the time the boys meet James Earl Jones?

. . . . .

I think spaghetti may be
The most unfulfilling meal
In the world

You only eat it when your soul is a void
And you're trying to fill it
With starch and empty carbs

I didn't even bother putting sauce on it
I just threw it onto my plate
Straight from the strainer
And sat here eating it
Like a deranged Italian spinster

. . . . .

When did I get so old?
And how did I get so old so fast?

When did life become a DVD and a bowl of spaghetti?

When did it stop being about dancing
And rooftop parties and glasses of wine
And craziness and friends?

Why I am here?
Why I am doing this?
Why I am doing this to myself?

. . . . .

You know what's fantastic about spaghetti?

Nobody expects you to finish it
It's spaghetti

It's meant to be leftovers

You may as well cook it in tupperware

. . . . .

It's going in the fridge
The DVD is going back on the--
In the garbage
It's going in the garbage

Enough crying
I can rent it
If I really want to see it again

And me?

I'm out of here