(no subject)
The old friends are always the best: I don't know where else I can go, mother. You think you're so funny. You're so clever. So very entertaining. But you've just got this broken feeling as it all slips away. Too many relationships are bamboo clothes: soft and light, but never last. The sun shines so bright. The sea is beautiful. It's clear for miles, but nothing left to see. But the same old trade of pills that take away your dreams, desperate loss and attempts at getting back everyone I've lost as the present trickles away from my fingers. That's why I'm on my own tonight.