so, i've been hanging out by the trains depot, no i dont ride i just sit and watch the people there, they remind me of wind up cars in motion they way they spin and turn and jockey for positions. And i want to scream that it all is nonsense, that there lives are one track and cant they see its pointless. But just then my knees give under me, my head feels weak and suddenly its clear to see that its not them but me who has lost my self identity as i hide behind these books i read white scribbling my poetry like art could save a wretch like me with some ideal idealogy that no one can hope to acheive, and im never real its just a sketch of me and everything i have is trite and cheap and a waste
he's my boyfriend
hey jonas, wanna go to the coffee shop and hang out with perry, luxon, neil and those guys?
hahaha
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B