...imagine offering that mix tape, wanting to share a little bit of what you love, and then getting that slap-in-the-face rejection, or worse, disinterest. it's so fucking beautiful.
ah ha, j/k j/k. "j/k" is exactly the kind of phrase that seems so callously trivial when spoken aloud that your insides twist with disgust at the sound of it.
"I do this thing where I think I'm real sick, but I won't go to the doctor to find out about it. Cause they make you stand real still in a real small place as they chart up your insides and put them on display. They'd see all of it, all of me, all of it."
wish passingly to spend all the hours of the night with people. but there's nothing to say, really. so it's hard to pretend that company matters when words are all that seem to count for anything.