fuck writing.
every time i put pen to paper i start drawing diagrams...
mapping things out and connecting them together
well there's a lot of connections...
but i'm not typing this shit out to explain those.
i am not capable, not yet at least, to provide or care for...
i don't even know what to fuckin' say right now.
beirut.
i was looking forward to it.
i don't really know what i'll be doing...
work? school? i dno...
whatever it is... i'll be doing it without u...
and that's the worst part of it.
and even if we do meet in beirut... what comes after?
another few months of arguing every weekend?
until xmas comes along...
then arguing every weekend for a few months...
cuz i still can't pull my act together.
and so, admittedly, i hope that one day i can be ready...
i'm in love with you... that's never going to change
it kills knowing i can't be that person for u...
i could keep going but there's no point n e more.
it's all going to come off as contradictions
and nonsense coming from me
cuz i'm not thinking straight
and i don't kno what i want....
yea
i kno
save ur breath...
and ur headache
and ur time
cuz i've wasted it enough...
i'm sorry.
goodnight...
