I wonder if you see what I see, in the distance, in the pain. I wonder and question and turn, in circles, in fantasies.
Korea calls for depression and my mother doesn't help, a silence that's tense, in a way.
But this was about you, only it's not, just the questions of that picture as I thought: "I'm glad you're ok". I really do.
Only online to see you, in silence, before sleeping. Dance dance dance, stop getting caught up in hope, it's done Daniela, and for the best. Just as I need to stop falling for the post-lunch sweets, oily and bloated. Bloated of pain, Chan, Jesus!
Stop this nonsense. Who? Who did? Who didn't? Is it back already? Fucking French, the bitch. Today I want a smoke and a series with my friends. Weird lot that my niece loved, the right lot.
I'm sad deep down. Only three weeks, still weak. Become my own home, my own Chan.
There is no end to this, the race of a beating heart, only death.
Become the love, become the attraction, become the silly and the arms. Do I want you or want to be you? I can't have you, I became a teenager in pain. Dissatisfaction is the constant state.
Fuck I need to fix the money, but fuck I need to find a way: yearly is better than now, we'll see but uncertainty has always been hard.
I miss you, I miss you, I miss them, I wish I wish I wish, I want.
Fuck, there's no way.
Fuck.