I am officially stuck in a rut. Endless nights and forgettable mornings. To be honest, I am beginning to feel the d-word prick at me and I feel myself allowing it to nestle. Doomed. A night with the past was a lot more enjoyable than expected. Kitty cat fights are always the most fun. Though it seems I have truly been one-upped in every possible way and it feels gr8. *sarcasm. Other than that, I feel nothing. I have to. It's been a long time since I've indulged in such late night conversations (scandal scandal). I forgot how grounding it can be, especially since I've been getting too high too often lately. Hook, line and sinker. If only I had just one that seemed genuine enough. It's a fake life. And it comes with fake things. I think I need to take a break before I really lose my head because the down is a lonely place with no one to pick me up. Destined to be a hobo. I know it's selfish but sometimes I wish I had one on the hook, the way I am dangling so hopelessly on your hook. I am holding on to a secret wish. Foolishly. To think, I used to say the same to you all those years ago. Irony of life. But back to these fake things, I never thought I'd be the kind of girl to say that. Actually, it's getting a little difficult to define what kind of girl I am these days. Youth and freedom still stands as my excuses and watching you regale your glory day tales with such enthusiasm is egging me on a little. Clearly, I'm fighting myself on this one. Yet another perennial debate: him or/and her? Maybe you are just a lot more special than I remember.
if it's only a fantasy
then why is it killing me?
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