i feel like taking drugs and going somewhere nobody knows me. drunk driving far away. i was walking down the street crying behind my big sunglasses, knowing it's me who is fucked up. waiting on an angel cuz i'm too tear torn to get myself back home. calling my best friend, i ask here to save me in a voicemail. repeat repeat. save my message.
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you are livejournal bob dylan.
we're all kind of messed up. that doesnt mean we're not ok at different levels. we need to feel all those different levels to not be robots, april dahling. it's ok. i hope writing about it helps you; it doesnt always help me (although reading helps me). if writing helps, thats one less albatross of an independent personal outlet to worry about finding.
youre b e t t e r than that jerk that you should have dumped. or maybe youre just different. (aka BETTER)
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