calleth you. cometh i. & thats how it is.
i wish i could say i couldnt stop crying at the airport. i could stop laughing.
& i hanged from his hips outside the tourbus, screaming 'no, dont go' in the silliest manner on earth. he's not just some rockstar. he's more like a friend. that's the way i think of him, and miss him ever so terribly.
i will write everything down. but not now. too tired, fell asleep thru buffy, screamfest with mum about nothing on her last night before _the surgery_, about sheets and me not listening to her. you try to, in this state! no bruises, but i have scratch marks.
i bought amore del tropico, which makes me very happy, in addition to everything. & he looked at me/us in the eye again, meaning it. calleth you, cometh i. it applies both ways.
there was confetti in the air. & hysteria. by others. hurting us.
i dont really expect you to care. or understand. because you propably dont.