(no subject)

[fakeplastctrees]

sometimes i think of you. but when i look up, i see nothing. and that is exactly what my heart is made of. but when i walk through the empty halls, i avoid stepping on the cracks. it's a habit, like when i open a new box of crayons. i take out the black crayon. i take it and throw the colorless crayon across the room. that is when i think you two have something in common. the way you lock the door makes me feel at ease. but i like it when the sun sets, rather than it rising, because i like my day to end and never to begin. the carpet doesn't move when you walk all over it. kind of like me, when you walk all over me. this longing and neglect is the only thing i know. to get accepted is foreign. i don't think i'd know how to take it, maybe i'd treat it like a snow day; wishing i could induldge in it, but no one to enjoy it with. i hope you understand. the way you breathe is so repetitive, and the way you treat me is like your breathing. i'm always there but never in mind. the clouds had a lot of body today. looks like it's going to rain. i guess you told them our plan. nothings a secret anymore.

[i wrote this last night when i couldn't sleep. its a little bit of my feelings along with some made up shit]