We're like razorblades and wrists, with the way we go together.
In the way that nothing we do, does any good for the other, we're perfect.
And I'm like plastic left under a hot iron,
In the way that I melt in front of you, and stick to you with just one touch.
I'm an accident waiting to happen,
And you're like a storm in all sorts of weather.
My heart cries out with desperation for you,
You were only in it for the apathy.
And I misjudged the way I thought you were,
You kissed like a boy who liked being caught in the rain.
My inquisitions were wrong.
Maybe you just weren't crazy enough for me.
^that was what i wrote for my creative writing class homework.^
mistakes are what we are best at.
and we make plenty of them.
we are best at creating them and putting them in situations where they cant go away. -where they wont go away.
our mistakes have become our miseries.
and our miseries have become our pleasures.
and our pleasures have become our addictions.
we're addicted to feeling the way we do.
i read my writings first in class today.
i knew the personality i was pretending was mine would become my own.
i guess its true that if you want something bad enough and you try hard enough to have it,
then you can make it yours.
but without you this wouldve never been possible.
my feelings wouldve never been possible.
my words wouldve never been possible.
and i conclude in:
i wouldve never been possible.
i owe you a thank you.
remind me to tell you in exactly 12 days.
forgetme.not.
