You should have messaged
translated
- Rodney: *to every attractive, age appropriate female that walks past* Are you legal?
- Me: DUDE! Fucking Stop.
- Rodney: *to every attractive, age appropriate female that walks past* Wanna fuck?
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY IN THE NAME OF RAY ALLEN’S MAMA IS IT SO FUCKING CLOSE FOR WHY?!
If the Pacers win I’m going to fucking slap somebody.
Seriously.
I’m in a bit of a “FUCK THIS” kind of mood.
“I don’t wanna lose control”
You call me a Solipsist.
I know you’re just trying to elicit a response.
But my mind is elsewhere.
And there’s that familiar feeling
which sits, idle, behind my eyes.
Old chords permeate the once still air.
“Tell me am I, am I… wasting my time
with you. Let me know”
Stale fingertips. Rusted lips.
The colour peels off your painted smile
and, oops… I think your humanity is showing.
“But every time I try, try to forget… who you really are
I can’t seem to find, find the warmth, in your cold heart
tell me if I’m… ooohhh”
Um…
I don’t really know much
right now…
and that’s not like me
not at all
but I do know
that
I need your hand on my chest
and your head resting on my shoulder
and your legs weaved into mine
and your breath on my neck
and… I just
yeah
al·most, /ôlˈmōst/ : (Adverb) Not quite; very nearly
I almost forgot your birthday. Almost.
Kind of like
how you always
only almost
remember to reply.
Almost.
More proof that I have the best baby sister EVER!
Sunrise.
The truth is…
nothing really compares to the colour of your eyes.
Not even the sunrise.
You can’t fix this - you didn’t break it.
She did.
Lol!
