keep my mouth shut and close the door. keep my mouth shut and close the door. one day things will be the same. one day things will be different. one day things will never stop mixing. they're always mixing. downtown on my bike alone in the middle of the night and what do you expect me to think about? this this this this this this and this. listing them off like i already knew what i was talking about. because sometimes i get there and i get that and i get this fucking feeling in my stomach or in my chest or in my throat and i can't tell what it is because it's just there. making shit up to invent your own amusement. exploring the entire world and coming home to your favourite nooks and places and people. because i hope you're not fucked up like that and i hope they're not fucked up like that and sometimes it's good to just hear you or hear from you more likely and i never wanted you to lie to me and i never wanted to lie to you and i never wanted us to somehow fuck up that much to the point of affecting each other in that way and it still gives me shivers and it still scares me to death and in some ways you'll never go away because you were it for too long. getting shook up not because of you. that's the most fucked up part. i am not shook up because of you. i'm shook up because other things remind me of it and then i start thinking and i never honestly thought it was ever possible again for me to ever have a single serious thought like this again. ahhh what the fuck. it's not because of you! but some things make me remember you! and the fact that those things make me do so iiiiiiiiiisssssss not okay. it's not okay. that is not o.k. i don't know what's going on yet i know perfectly well. no. i know what's going on sometimes but i don't know what's going to happen. i need to stop thinking and go fucking... chill out...
i want a babuska doll tattoo. as soon as i have money. that's what i'm getting.
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