I make myself sick. It tears me up inside.

blackberry stash. (mmm tasty)

you smell so good, but how do you taste?

I should be sleeping, but I guess I was hoping you'd miss me and call.

I have very little life, but way too many excuses it seems.

There are papers everywhere. Its such a terrible mess. There's dust and clutter on every surface and I'm anything but dressed to impress. This house is sinking into my thoughts and fucking everything up. If this isn't a side effect then I don't know what is. worthless thoughts. worthless things that just get in the way.