I find myself lying on the floor more and more these days.It feels safe,like there's nowhere else I could possibly fall from there.It feels cold,a much needed balm for my burning face.It feels atemporal: no clocks to hurt me,no time to pass or wait until it all goes to Hell.
I want to leave,but I don't want to leave.Going away from home scares me today as much as it did that day last autumn and as much as coming back this Friday.The certainty of what I leave behind is not comforting,neither is the haunting perspective of what I am to find upon my return.
This blue train mirrors my soul: heading towards the heart of a storm with no intention of slowing down.
I'll never understand beautiful blond boys,the irregular English verbs or strange,creepy men trying to take my photograph.
I talk too much when I'm nervous and crying,which doesn't really surprise me at all.
Distance makes me both nauseous and ecstatic.
This headache's bleeding sleep into my eyelids...
I want to leave,but I don't want to leave.Going away from home scares me today as much as it did that day last autumn and as much as coming back this Friday.The certainty of what I leave behind is not comforting,neither is the haunting perspective of what I am to find upon my return.
This blue train mirrors my soul: heading towards the heart of a storm with no intention of slowing down.
I'll never understand beautiful blond boys,the irregular English verbs or strange,creepy men trying to take my photograph.
I talk too much when I'm nervous and crying,which doesn't really surprise me at all.
Distance makes me both nauseous and ecstatic.
This headache's bleeding sleep into my eyelids...
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