My OCD is making me feel like embarking on the impossible task of sorting posts and starting a side project/side projects. But when will I ever have the time and energy to devote to purely whimsical plaisirs? Probably never, but I know I'll always begin the neverending.
MELT. NAO.
I swear, great singing has such a gooifying effect on me (or most girls, for that matter).
These days, I think of you so much. I know I shouldn't, and I hate you for everything. I shouldn't think much of you but I can't help it. The worst of it all is that I have to pretend everything is ok when it's not, pretend that I don't love or miss you when I do; and having no one to talk to when I feel so. I mostly curl up in bed crying into my pillow, careful not to let anyone catch me. Then I write these secret posts that nobody will ever discover. I'm scared, are you? Take the leap of faith with me, please. Otherwise I just might dive down face first into the murkiness alone, with no hand to hold. O when will things hit rockbottom?
Anything But Work
xo
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