Yet somehow there's still this gaping hole feeling in my gut
and I find it hard to breathe without tears.
can't a girl joke back, however wrong the term is?
you really do take things seriously, the density of weighted words.
I don't know what to do with you.
I don't know what to do with myself on days like this.
all I really want is to run and scream until I spit blood.
because that's all I am, all the time, just bursting with feelings
so many things to say and so much emotion to spare.
if you want some, you can have it. open here, take as you need, just leave enough so I can tell my mother I love her and mean it.
