i wonder how many times in my life i have heard those words. I don't think i could even count. anyway. I'm sitting on the train on the way home from gosford. Every trip up here makes me think i should really find out if he's still alive. I always wonder, and then it seems as soon as we're back in the city it completely slips my mind. I think that makes me a pretty shit person. It does quite literally make my heart hurt to think i don't know where he is and we don't talk anymore. But i guess its just an old story that ran out of pages to be written on. That seems to happen a lot. I've had some self realisations lately that haven,t been great. Not even remotely good. Which sucks. Especially when its so hard to find something good to start with. Its the same old complaints again and again. Can i please go back and not be this person? 'Well i hate who i was, and who i've been since'. Pretty much sums things up nicely. I cant pretend i'm happy in this (over sized, flabby revolving) skin these days. Vicious. Miserable about it, but too spent to help myself. Blah blah blah. Cry me a river. Thanks jt. Tunnels make my ears pop. Ouch.
1 comment:
we're good at thinking alike.
have you made up your mind about the black or the tortoise shell yet bbz ?
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