(no subject)
I fucking hate myself and my life.
And I am not doing this for attention, so don't even think about facing me, your hands cupped to catch my sad, pathetic tears. Do not feel sorry for me. Spend that pity on yourself.
I need a fix badly. I need to go back in time and catch up with an old friend. He's calling my name, like he never would in real life. There's a phonebooth. And it's ringing, maybe I should answer it; because even though this is just some strange street, I can't shake the feeling it's your street. It's the street you live on, and it smells fucking great. It smells like your white car and the accounting office right before I met you, clandestinely, as always. It smells like Bowman's Hill. The wildflower preserve and we never even visited. You drove by. You said you didn't want to, again.
Someone sing me to sleep. Sing to me in my sleep, even in the middle of this nightmare.
Rescue me, rescue me, rescue me. Ride in your white car and rescue me from the present.
I wish I had gotten sick in that car. I wish I had puked all over the tests from your second period class on the floor mat. Because then maybe you would have sold that car by now. You don't deserve to own something that connects me to you in any way. It's just tightening your grip on my imagination.
And I am not doing this for attention, so don't even think about facing me, your hands cupped to catch my sad, pathetic tears. Do not feel sorry for me. Spend that pity on yourself.
I need a fix badly. I need to go back in time and catch up with an old friend. He's calling my name, like he never would in real life. There's a phonebooth. And it's ringing, maybe I should answer it; because even though this is just some strange street, I can't shake the feeling it's your street. It's the street you live on, and it smells fucking great. It smells like your white car and the accounting office right before I met you, clandestinely, as always. It smells like Bowman's Hill. The wildflower preserve and we never even visited. You drove by. You said you didn't want to, again.
Someone sing me to sleep. Sing to me in my sleep, even in the middle of this nightmare.
Rescue me, rescue me, rescue me. Ride in your white car and rescue me from the present.
I wish I had gotten sick in that car. I wish I had puked all over the tests from your second period class on the floor mat. Because then maybe you would have sold that car by now. You don't deserve to own something that connects me to you in any way. It's just tightening your grip on my imagination.