But my fingers catch the spark at the thought of touching you.
Oh god, it's harsh. The summertime won't put up with my bullshit. It's terrible to be so sad and crazy in this heat. The winter, that's a different story. The rain and wind and ice say it's okay to cry. It's okay to want to die cause you're not by my side. But when the sun is shining and smiling you feel even more guilty for not doing the same. I wish you know how much this was hurting. How every day getting out of bed is a bruise (to my ego or my heart, i don't know). I hope you realize I am the best thing to ever happen to you come mid-june because you'll never find another thinker like this. Haven't you learned that already? Nobody ever fucking learns anything. We just keep on making the same mistakes and excuses over and over and over again and wonder why everything always ends up so shitty. I can't wait for angles and airwaves. Maybe that will be the record that changes my life. Or maybe I will just keep falling in love the more you don't answer the phone. Room 21 never experienced a pair of lovers as eclectic as us. I still have fireflies on my breath.