it's all of the good that won't come out of us, and how eventually our hands will just turn to dust,
It's hard, everybody tells me to do something different. You would hate me for telling so many people... but you hate me already so there's no real solution. I'm still not sorry, I'm not. I'll let you know when I am. For now I just want to stay at Starbucks in that corner that I never leave, and read those awful books you make fun of me for reading. I can't stop thinking about it, like a movie, it keeps flashing in my head. Everybody tells me to do something different. I just want for once to hear advice that actually clicks.