breathe, dip into the water and go under it all and hold yourself alone

Sunday, May 05, 2013


It's fucking ridiculous, but somehow the taste of an over-cooked egg on toast makes me miss you. I get sentimental. Then the whole fliparoo thing happens with my heart, and I'm thrown into a miserable fit of love and loathing. I suppose at least this is progress, in a way, for me. I actually felt brave enough this time to let somebody the fuck in for once. Too bad it was you. 


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"Are you becoming what you always hated?" --- Charles Bukowski