I'm sick right now. sick of you. sick of this. sick of these clothes i wear. sick of them. sick of trying to make myself stand still and actually listen to what you've got to say, because what you've got to say is another story you've made up in your head that sounds wonderful and makes you feel fucking wonderful. you make yourselves sound like something else and i mean something else, maybe something big. would you like to be something big?

of course.

i'm bitter right now, you know?

you don't.

and you, i could say i hate you right now but feeling animosity for you is a fucking waste of time. you're lower than the dirt on my ground and i'm going to walk all over you becuase i can.

coward.

Kiss | Me