02.APR.2014
4:52P

the thing is, i can't let you go. i can't let go of the nights when you'd wake me up at 3am and i'd pretend i hadn't been sleeping just to stay up and talk to you. your worn-out shoes, hair in your eyes, always miserable; you weren't ever supposed to speak to me. you are not real.

"it's perfectly fine. just be happy. you know. 'happy.'"
"what is this word."
"no idea."