twenty april
twelve : forty-five p.m.

i need someone to talk to but there's no one left and maybe that's why i've been on such a search, just looking for someone who will listen like he used to. and this whole thing makes me feel so sick; i can feel everything moving and i can't stop asking (only myself) why he won't just tell me the fucking truth.

about everything.

my head feels so tense heavy overflowing and there are tears rolling down my cheeks like they haven't done in months.

music : silence
literature : pioneers
fixation : boys and girls