(no subject)
It’s disgusting. This is disgusting. Don’t expect beauty from me, okay? I can’t write what I feel. But I can feel what I write, and this writing is what I feel. When I’m outside in the cold when I should be warm and comfortable, that’s when I feel. When I’m at home, on my computer, or in my room…that’s when I write. So I can’t possibly be expected to be able to convey that emotion from 12 hours before, can I? But all the same, they are together, and twisted like that, yeah.