"now hold onto me pretty baby."
i should be out dancing along to stories of other peoples youth... but i tripped over my own stupidity, and hit the ground too fast for me to blink.
ouch.
dancing isn't limp friendly.
so here i am. spilling out my head to the keyboard and absorbing the rhythm of other peoples guitars over my speakers.
the fun just never stops.
or maybe it never started.
my floor is littered with extracts of my thoughts.
pages ripped from notebooks that i couldn't understand, but i don't have the heart to throw away.
sentimentality will be my downfall, when i realise i can't let go.
especially the whispers and photos.
these diary entries are filled with nothing but incoherant mumblings of a trainwreck.
maybe one day someone will understand how my mind works.
i pity them.
i'd never want to get that close to myself.
