“So if you’re not talking to me again, which means you must’ve made up your mind cause i know i’ve made up mine. i’m tired of being your second, if-it-doesn’t-work-out choice. i’m tired of waiting for your replies and making up reasonable excuses in my head for why i don’t receive one. i’m done trying not to think about you during the days, and losing sleep when i can’t escape the thought of you at night. you planted seeds in my soul, let the flowers grow in the cracks of my bones, then stopped watering them, stopped caring.”well they’re dead now, so fuck you.
My life in a suitcase
My life in a suitcase 