something smelt fishy
maybe later?
maybe later!
ooof! whatta blow.
every couple in the world banks on a new years kiss at midnight, I don't care who you are.... ..that is...every couple except for the couple that doesn't exist, i guess.
I can't tell you how many times I muttered "I hate you" this evenin'
I can't express what it felt like to ball my eyes out for the first time in over a year or two. I totally lost it... all choked up, couldn't even talk to my mother who called inquiring....handed the phone to a very excellent friend to speak for me, and ended up feeling halfway okay.... then again, I became a victim of a bottle of grey goose and some medication prescribed for a person other than myself. I couldn't tell you what I was doing when the year changed, where I was, or what I was saying. I'm just glad it didn't matter.
Fuck the sharp glares at my red eyes and ruffled clothes. Fuck you glitz and glamour. Fuck your Roseanne Marathons and Non-filter cigarettes.
Why do we make things seem so important in a world such as this? It doesn't make too much sense.
So, goodbye best sex of my life. Goodbye to the spitting image of Devendra Banhart. I'm hoping this feeling comes as easy in the morning. I say goodbye quite often, don't I? Might I add, it isn't my fault?
Independence is attractive, as I've discovered from past short-lived flings.. as well as being "the raddest graff chick in america". I'm glad I know fools more foolish than I.
But all in all, I'm too paranoid to lose you or to keep up with your inconsistencies. I can't add this weight to the world. So, it goes. I'll leave your 3am text without a reply.
"Look at the bigger picture, not the smaller one."
...cause I might throw yours away.
Bonjour, clean slate. Be good to me.
maybe later!
ooof! whatta blow.
every couple in the world banks on a new years kiss at midnight, I don't care who you are.... ..that is...every couple except for the couple that doesn't exist, i guess.
I can't tell you how many times I muttered "I hate you" this evenin'
I can't express what it felt like to ball my eyes out for the first time in over a year or two. I totally lost it... all choked up, couldn't even talk to my mother who called inquiring....handed the phone to a very excellent friend to speak for me, and ended up feeling halfway okay.... then again, I became a victim of a bottle of grey goose and some medication prescribed for a person other than myself. I couldn't tell you what I was doing when the year changed, where I was, or what I was saying. I'm just glad it didn't matter.
Fuck the sharp glares at my red eyes and ruffled clothes. Fuck you glitz and glamour. Fuck your Roseanne Marathons and Non-filter cigarettes.
Why do we make things seem so important in a world such as this? It doesn't make too much sense.
So, goodbye best sex of my life. Goodbye to the spitting image of Devendra Banhart. I'm hoping this feeling comes as easy in the morning. I say goodbye quite often, don't I? Might I add, it isn't my fault?
Independence is attractive, as I've discovered from past short-lived flings.. as well as being "the raddest graff chick in america". I'm glad I know fools more foolish than I.
But all in all, I'm too paranoid to lose you or to keep up with your inconsistencies. I can't add this weight to the world. So, it goes. I'll leave your 3am text without a reply.
"Look at the bigger picture, not the smaller one."
...cause I might throw yours away.
Bonjour, clean slate. Be good to me.