The paper and pen rejected me, nice to know you all are still here.
The world's falling apart in my eyes, but you're all the super glue still holding it together, holding me together. Some days you need to show your true colours, some days you need to bottle it in. I'm the bottling type of person. Somehow you all manage to get it out of me, but I'm still holding back, couldn't tell you why.
I feel like the characters in every book could be me in one way or another. Either way you look at it, that character is fucked in one way or another, exactly how I feel most days. That all of their vices that manage to shine brighter than all things good. There never was anything special about me other than my problems. Even those are starting to sound played out now.
Je ne sais pas.
