i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy. i am not crazy.
i think i hate hospitals, and the stinky hand soap, and a nurse’s fake smile, and the overhead lighting, and the quiet doctors, and the cold tile floors, and the cheap tissues, and the bland food, and the way you’ll never be the same.
he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not.
i read somewhere, that there is a day in the year that is always a catalyst. a day where you hit rock bottom for years on end. mine is november 9th.
we’re tied together eternally by a single day. happy birthday baby. happy birthday to me.
another valentine’s day without you is another year of melancholy.
the rage in me has made my humanity scarce. i will not be quiet about it.