You made me feel. I was perfectly fine being void of passion, emotion, experience, and true love. Now I crave it. Like a fuckin junkie. And I blame you for making me feel empty.
You. I depend on you, like yellow does on blue. And I thank you for being like a brother to me.
I always know, your my person, dirty mistress.
Get a fucking clue. I have known about how you felt since July...and I still dont want you. You drive me insane. By the way. I hate when you hug or touch me in anyway.
I hope we get closer. Im starting to become quite fond of you.
Im going to miss you when you leave, youve become a good friend and Ill miss driving to Eve 6 & JEW.
I hate odd numbers, except 21, its my lucky number. Like if my phone has 199 texts in my inbox I delete an unimportant one.
There are so many beautiful sights in the world, and I need to capture them all. Dissect the color. Then put them together again.
I'm the same way about odd numbers. I feel like things aren't...I don't know, right enough if it's odd. Unless they end in 5. Then they can mostly be okay.
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