it sounds stupid to say that it feels so good to close your eyes when you're not supposed to. when you're crossing the street, touching someones hair, listening in public. i love the state of vulnerability it puts you in. because there comes a point when vulnerability is your only escape. your only excuse.

i still haven't gotten used to the idea that you're important -in a universal way- and that i am merely here. there was something strangely intimate about last night. between you and i we could have burned down a thousand houses. we could've swam across the atlantic and back. it was so intimate and yet so public i feel cheap. like i shouldn't listen. i shouldn't look. i shouldn't be here. every morning i promise to put you away and every morning i welcome you in. i wish you didn't make me feel so heavy and dense.

if you don't use it, does your hear just gather dust or does it shrivel up and die? what happened when i closed my eyes? will you be the same tomorrow as you were tonight? can i explain my gratitude and sadness? i think i should just get my fucking story straight. i hate being melodramatic, if i could avoid it i would. i wish i knew how to brake a vase. properly. how to throw a fit. how to cry without looking like an ass. pretty girls make it look glamorous. make it look appealing. "she's so refined i think i'll kill myself"

i bet you call all my bluffs. you're the only one who knows i lie way too fucking much. we could have made global phones go off. but as i lit my 23rd cigarette you ran off. i didn't even see you go, all i felt were the 400 blows.