twenty-one november
twelve : thirty-eight a.m.

"i keep having this daydream where i keep ripping off my arm. and i don't understand it. i stare at it. and think of how easy it was to do, and how it's never going back on. it's there in my hand, and it hurts, but it doesn't bother me much. and, lately, i guess i started to realize if i kept staring at it and thinking about it, i'd have this big open wound on my shoulder. and i'd keep staring at it. i could bleed to death. slowly. and i wouldn't realize it. i'd probably just keep thinking about it and staring at it. and it'd be thin. and pale. and i could probably snap my wrist, too. and i don't know why i keep thinking this. i keep having this day dream. and i don't know why."

and please. don't let me fall in love with you again.