THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE

12.03.11 . 4:34 pm

What I want is to sit and write down about sitting in front of a coffee shop in Soho with you, drinking my second or third cup of coffee even though it's only 11, and you tell me off for not sleeping, telling me that I'm making myself insane, telling me that living like this, never sleeping and writing absolutely everything isn't going anywhere, I have to change

You were incredibly critical of me, staring at my work pinned to the wall- you tell me that my honesty is false. I claim to tell the truth, to put myself out there, but I veil everything, I say almost nothing of what's actually happening. You say that constant melodrama isn't dramatic at all. I'm being ridiculous.

We go out for drinks afterwards, both too sleepy for anything normal, and you say you're concerned about routine, about the way you're living and I say, it doesn't have to be this way, it doesn't have to stay the way it is.

I stumble home, dizzy and shaking, you send me text messages all night

Several weeks ago, I was up late at night crying, thinking that I have to look my loneliness in the face, reason with it, and here it is now, it's slipping away

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