(no subject)
the days lately seem to slip by me. time is constantly running through my hands, almost like a distant memory. my mom makes up idiotic fairytales while i sit under the familiar crochetted blanket and feel the music move throughout me.
i thought that when he kissed me softly, silently, on the pale greeness of the l-shaped couch, that it meant something real. several stolen kisses later, after empty cigarette butts and beer cans, i found out otherwise.
im reading the mysteries of pittsburgh and on thursday i got my hair cut.
all i really want is to go back and start my own story. as i feared, i am alone and always will be.
everything distracts me and, most of the time, things don't seem so bad.