he came home, he gave me the best weekend of my life and then he fucked me off. why am i so surprised?
because i thought he was different, that's why.
the pain sits in my chest like a lump. it hurts whenever i breathe and no amount of saying 'what a wanker' is going to soothe it. no amount of drunken fucked up nights will make it hurt less. they might dull the pain for a while but i doubt it'll last.
it's him i think about when i wake up, when i go to sleep. when i eat my breakfast, get on the bus, meet my friends. it's all him and i hate my head for doing this to me but i hate him even more.
on a lighter note, me and bestest moved in. it's great.
we've got plans, big plans. dressing up boxes and weird shit. getting drunk tonight, i really want to get in that state where i feel like the earths trying to pull me onto the floor. know what i mean?
well, we're going to be like that tonight.
town, look out.
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