Still trying to reconcile myself to the fact that I didn't really matter. Dizzy and looking in the mirror, wishing that these things weren't the way they are. Running a fever too hot & cold & maybe, possibly waiting, holding out for something that'll never come. This is all too familiar, and I'm thinking maybe tonight I've forgotten myself back a couple of years. To stop regretting and to sort things out. I miss you, as if I didn't try to say it enough, but it doesn't matter, and don't worry I'll realise it soon. I'm just too arrogant to expect it maybe. I wish I could write. I wish I could feel something other than hurt, especially when it's all my fault. Enough.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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