eighteen april
one : nineteen a.m.

i'm sorry. i really don't have anything to say. i just need to keep busy. i need my fingers to keep moving. i need my mind to stop reeling.

i don't know why i feel like this. i can't stop thinking about everything, and it's all starting to hurt a lot more. that gorgeous face won't even fix it.

music : that same bird
literature : nothing
fixation : yes