sick

I hate Sundays.

Don't tell me you miss me if you don't mean it. Do you miss me?

It's easier to be alone. I'm not lonely when I'm alone.

Bored, bored, bored, bored. Bored with you, and bored with me.

Why do women I haven't spoken to in ages insist on reappearing in my life? There's a reason we stopped talking. Nothing has changed. People don't change. You're still the evil bitch who will lead me on, and I'm still the hopeless fool who will fall for it.

No thanks.

"Better to have loved and lost." I'd punch the asshole who said it.

Why can't I shake these blues?