Mar. 3rd, 2008

desertions: (Just Before We Do I Will Walk Away From)
I don't know what's worse, the dissapointment or the lack of any real expectations.
Small, little jabs hurt like something being stabbed in my chest.
She started interrogating me in the middle of breakfast about our fight the other night
I couldn't even respond
I just sat there, eating in silence.
I guess at this point, there doesn't seem to be much else I can say.
She never ever listens.

I'm only twenty years old, and I have no real parental figures left.
That concept within itself is enough to make me depressed.

Song of the Entry:

I Can Barely Breathe by Manchester Orchestra

When the dark flood came
we wrapped ourselves inside a dirty blanket
citing different opinions
on whether we should move

when the houses came
they ate up everyone like they were fishes
saying, "come on, come on
its the end of the world"

and then I saw your face
you're turning skin into a dirty secret
I watched the beauties, watched the fire
and the fire burn the beauty in their eyes

when I took the blame
we laid in ruins trying to quote your phrase
we're yelling, "someone's got the answers,
but I'd rather think there's nothing to be found"

if you knew I was dying would it change you?

So when you see me falling backwards down the wall that says I'm still alive,
don't be cautious when I'm cautiously approaching on the other side
everybody has their reasons, that's the reason we're all going to die

because if seeing is believing,
then believe that we have lost our eyes

when I fly solo, I fly so high
don't touch me now.

We all deserve something


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