Is it because that as I sit here, much earlier than I am used to sitting here, there is something that is pulling me here?
Here, of course, being the place where everyone cares, because you need them to.
Here is the place where people go when they need to feel like they belong.
Maybe we do belong here, you and I, because we are reaching out.
Here is where it seems that hands reach back.
But they don’t. But they seem to.
Maybe what matters is the perception.
That I can ignore the judging eyes that hide in the cracks of this safe haven.
Not eyes that stare you down, embedded in a friend’s skull, saying “You’re not the person I thought you were.”
Those concrete eyes don’t exist here. Only shadows that dart and hide and revel in their judgement.
Reach out to those shades, because they are sure to flee.
Confuse their enigmatic figures for friends.
Its been a long time, but I’m not okay.
I think I’m losing the only thing I ever really had.
We are awaken with the axe.
Night of the living dead, at last.
They have begun to shake the dirt.
Wiping their shoulders from the Earth.
Then I started fucking it up. I think tonight that I realized I’ll never stop fucking up. That I thought I was good at something that I’m not. That I convinced myself I was. And that I was wrong. I never stopped Fucking it up. I’ll never stop Fucking it up.
I swear, when I woke up this morning, I knew something I couldn’t possibly have known.
And just when I settled into my skin, I proved myself right.
I wish I were surprised, but somehow I knew.
Sometimes, you just know.
Anonymous asked: Don't let the rage get to you.
That it is “Everyone’s life is falling apart and I need you for something, Drake” week.
Maybe then, my body would have realised that when I need to do everything for everyone, its not optimal to be completely fucking sick and feel like total shit.
If there was a memo, and I just didn’t get it, I’m going to be VERY cheesed off.
Oh my god they are the same fucking person.
I really hope that guy doesn’t get cancer, he is probably pretty nice.
I just want to forget.
Emma Watson, Jonathan Ross - September 29, 2012
Anonymous asked: Do you know me?
I can’t answer the question.
But if you are asking it, I have a feeling that the answer isn’t that hard to find.
Its one you already know.
Your eyes and your lips have lost every semblance of agreement.
Not a word be spoken, you’d say the same thing.
I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m worried.