I’m losing sleep. Trying to make sense of noise. Remember the song you wrote about the one you loved? It’s being played in funerals. Irony takes a turn and the difference from what we know and knew starts to become blurry. It has become a routine to follow and swallow a little bit of pride. We’re not unique, that’s just what we tell ourselves to
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a secret- no secrets :)
a confession- I wish I wasn't so lazy
a fear- I dont think I'm ready to be 'free'
a love- accomplishing stuff
I left this kinnda vague, I know :P
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secret:I'm a sucker for smart guys.
confession:I had sex last night!
fear:snakes, and lizards
love:I love that one thing that makes what rhymes with my name happy.
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