leaning on the counter writing this with another company’s blue gel pen because all night it’s been slow old jazz, remember that, there’s a lot of good lyrics sweet and sentimental thinking on them now they’re pretty poor poetry but in the right light powerful verse nonetheless, it’s not every kind of music just drips of a person, and it’s a fat heavy downpour outside so wherever I go I guess it’s thick in the air that I’m not where I should be, and if I don’t get there soon something is going to break becasue I only have so much capacity, you know, oh god god what the hell do I do, will you just indicate something please, this is just a circle I keep walking in please grab an arm or something pull me out get me back to me, I don’t know how I don’t know how

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Death, The Life Story

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"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."- Jonathan Safran Foer. || student, loves travelling and perhaps baking a cake.||

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