Part of me is happy. Part of me aches like a thousand senior citizens' knees. I can't help but feel relieved to know their leaving, and I can't stand it at the same time. I drove away, and felt nothing. No pain, No joy, and the more I think about it, the more I realise my silence may have been the best thing for my head. Have I finally staightened this whole thing out, or have I become ready to let go of the whole thing
Fighting the urge to drown my utter confusion in alcohol. A little whiskey would do me well right now, but I can't stand the thought of drinking to solve problems.
Who have I become? Is his skin so thick he feels no pain? Is his heart so weak, it burns inside?
Fighting the urge to drown my utter confusion in alcohol. A little whiskey would do me well right now, but I can't stand the thought of drinking to solve problems.
Who have I become? Is his skin so thick he feels no pain? Is his heart so weak, it burns inside?
great line...
word.
but fuck'em if they can't take a joke...