Oh this all seems remarkably familiar to a night before a literature exam two years ago, except your faces have been changed, except this time I will not slice up my arms for you or anyone else. I want to dissolve into darkness (with the radiator burning ridges into my back) and cry, or I want very much to know that you'll be there, to make me feel stupid for being so stupid and to show me how much it isn't this way at all, to kiss it better. I just know that you won't, that's all.

Feeling: as if i won't be able to concentrate tomorrow
Listening to: "if you trust people, they won't surprise you." "but conviction is the pre.."
Pretending: you will.

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