I think I will go lay in the street. goodbye.
(I wish)

I hate that I look, and see things I don't want to see. I hate that you write things I don't want to see. I hate that I feel like dying all the time.

They are not even people I want to know. I can't exactly think of how I need to say what I want to say, or how I want to say what I need to say, and I really should be saying it there, but it isn't really the place for it. I am really high right now. and I think sick. But definitely okay. maybe it's the White Album. maybe it is the realization ( ( Read more... )

and I don't know what to do

what I really wanted to say to him was "WE ARE NOT IN FOURTH GRADE ANYMORE" but I didn't. And I will probably let him slip through my fingers waiting for you. and then I will be a lonely skeleton ( Read more... )

too much too ask, apparently. I am cold. My fingers are like icicles. no. strings. but i like strings. they keep me from falling too far. who needs to fall when it will only give you broken bones?

I am listening to it. finally. and it so so good it almost makes. me cry. I wish you two were here. I can't stop smiling.

I need to know everything
I know next to nothing
You like it this way
I don't.

the little things hit me out of nowhere. stupid things. but I am destroyed all the same. a pile of useless bones and blood and skin.

but does anyone notice? but does anyone care? if I had the guts. to put this to your head.

I constantly feel as though I am under attack. in reality, no one is ever attacking me. full of myself I guess.

I miss you. I wonder if you miss me too. have you filled my shoes with new fans?