you made me more upset than I thought you could, and I guess my cold showering streak of jealousy if still ever present
I wish I could keep all my secrets inside, eventually I will talk, quietly, so you can barely hear. I will though and you have to trsut me on thaT, IF you ever get a chance. I'm hard to understand and I make myself to be a big deal, but its just because i like to push distance betweejn myself and everyone else. its just easier. ive already told you more than I should have, and sometimes I want to confide in you as a friend
but you are my lover and that will not change, so this keep will be kept playing the same
until we are more or less of above, until we are certain

this is defnitivly good style. I love the white, and though its not the prettiest girl in the world, the style and class and general GOOD TASTE is so there, all over the place.

ideas for stories:
+you dont look hobo chic, you just look homeless
+Yogurt tasting better the smaller the package. expl: minigos?

I've got a lot of memories on my mind and still a lot of stuff to let go of that I dont know how
I miss you when I cry, yknow. I'll never admit it outloud.

I liked it when he refered to himself as 'the boy I'm fucking' it made me feel slightly delicious inside. Maybe I'[ve just always wanted lovers and right now I want someone to worship my body and leave my heart to be by my bedside, besides the condoms were forgetting to use. We're doing whatever we want, and whatever I want, I get, correct? I adapt this to my life so often mainly because I'm a selfish twat and I dont like feeling unhappy.
I dream of everyone's life but my own and then I realize that my own life is pretty sweet, despite it not being chronicled in pictures. its chronicled in journals, even if it be only my own.

I keep seeing pictures of paris in the autumn. I think I may get distracted eventually and forget what it feels like to be there. Every night i dream about that damned city. I wont lie- i pretend, i dream, i skip up on sidewalks. I see ic

lovers they say cry and die, behold and above, romance has no place right here in my heart. truthfully speaking ive forgotten my own, here i am dying atlantic sea taking hold. walking with stones in my pockets so deep, i rub the whitelucky ones and try not to weep, truthufully speaking i've forgotten your eyes, truthfully speaking I forgot to die
last week when I said -good morning my man, i smiles and lied and gave you my hand, but now i am glad because i've got so much distraction it couldnt fail me because theres so much attractin. and I keep the writting just coming about to discover what it is that i truly do love and its myself and my mind and my ego's career because i couldnt be happier than listening to myself talk into my own ear.