The ideal way to kick off The Masters. TFM.
I miss you. I miss you so much. And not in a romantic, quiet pining kind of way. I miss you like a disgusting, shameful, and hideously gut-wrenching sickness. I think of you when I shower. I turn the water up until it sears my skin because you liked it lukewarm. When I see windows I think about how you sat in yours hoping I’d come back to you. And I think of how I wish I could have. I think of you when it’s hard to make it through the day. When my high starts to set in I blow out your asshat comments along with the smoke. I think of you when he touches me wrong. And I think of you later when I’m staring at the ceiling wondering if I’m living or just killing time. I think of you when I make bad decisions. I have this misconstrued impression that I’m a voodoo doll. When I stab myself I hope you feel it too. I think of you when I try not to think of you. I think of you when I drink. I think of you when I breathe. Do I have to stop breathing to stop thinking of you? How do you get someone out of your veins without bleeding? A.S. (prompt by stevenmallory)
making plans with friends like
@nickjonas: Wait.. egging is still a thing?
This time we’re going to be so much better together. We already are.