I have barely slept 4 or 5 hours, if that, every night this week. I feel sick. And last nights shenanigans before bed won’t help.
I just want to go home.
Fun loving girl, responsible sometimes. Likes to laugh, lives to love. No dull moments or dull men tolerated. Eats, drinks, sleeps art. Lingerie, Pin Ups, mid-century modern, Detroit, good people and nice and intriguing messages.
Sometimes I seriously consider it.
Or wish it would happen.
You make it sound like it would be the best thing for you all.
Or maybe you should find a shooting squad for me, like you wished upon me 7 months ago.
It makes me sit and think about the cliche bullshit, of whether it would matter, make a dent or difference, to anyone?
You don’t know shit, because you’re too scared. And your head is too far up your ass. How do you honestly think that’s the better thing? The best option? Can you honestly not see how depressed I am here? Because of you? Just let me be. I don’t want anything to do with you. We would all be happier if you just left me alone.