THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Eighteen years old, and none of the right scars to show for it. What I used to use for armor is now becoming a bit too heavy to lift- Still, the optimism seems to persist... I still put all of my faith in just the idea of you.
You are so cold, so European, but all the paint has dried and we've still got nothing, we still have absolutely nothing to hold onto... Out of the sunlight and into the coffee houses- I know you just a little to well...
We began to take inventory, today, of all of my things for my moving out in August. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about any of this, and I'm not sure what I think in any case...
Are you sure that this is still what you want to do?