this room looks familiar to my untrained eyes but it's just its facade. it's really just some random room that was specifically designed to torment me into insanity. guess what? it didn't work
as i watch the television i realize that i'm seeing us in the fictional characters of greys anatomy and i'm yelling "whore" at mcdreamy while you go and spend the night with addison and alex realizes that his baby is a fictional person in the fictional world that is his own and i suppose i'm the meredith. isn't it twisted?
i wrote a monologue that held words of beauty (beauty) but burnt it and wrote a new one. beauty never really described you well. things like sex and alcohol and stale bread always come to mind when i think of you. (the only reason you're still alive in my head is because you won't let go)
it's not me anymore. it's paperclips and blue buttons and borrowed things that are never returned. it's a telephone that doesn't call out and it's lonely with someone else and it's you
do you get it now? no