i’m sorry for everything, i really am. i’m sorry for making you angry, sad or worried. i’m sorry for keeping you…
oh, you thought. you thought that you were looking for love.
maybe it’s me. maybe i’m different. maybe i’m too independent. maybe i hate small talk. maybe i’m twisted. maybe i’m weird. maybe i’m not…
8am. My eyes shoot right open. Gravity is my enemy here, refusing to allow me to pull myself out of bed.
They play with your feelings, they play with your supposed schedules.