I'm beginning to think I'm a *******.
This tolerance was either built in perfection or was meant to be ****** up by their destruction.
The pain of depression has no location, but physical pain always had the location enabled. Maybe that's why I find comfort in my scars. For the sake of the walls I built I will be ****** of my veins bleeding.
I'll find a map instead.
Her hellos and goodnights made me wish her lies were wrapped in my arms. A good day and how was your day made me feel a touch of warmth. It's tough to figure me out.