We're all that pretentiously ill
we're coughing up blood
we can't swallow that pill.
Cause we’re unpretentiously broken up there.
But I can’t ignore the stars in your hair.

Ok, I wrote that song above, and for some reason, I love the chorus. Its stuck. Seriously.

Its still in construction, so must wait a while before you can here it.

AAAAND. I've been hyper all day, so give me some allowance to be emo, ok?



EMO
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[ ]
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Gosh. I spent ages on that arrow.


There's a mild stagnation when you go away. Everything around me seems to go still, and so quiet that the world seems dead. You can't blame me for seeing things like such - its my way of expression, my way of seeing beauty in seemingly hopelessness.
I can feel the pangs of emptiness. The hallows of my insides are so empty its hurts to inhale sweetness from the air. Its a different sweetness altogether, the bitterness of the rich flavour of life contaminates the lightness of the air. What I ache for, is the lightness of winds, the simple actions of running my fingers through your hair as we embrace, the dizzying sensations of my face buried in the scent of your shirt, the perfect way our fingers lock together, my small, rough one in your large, smooth one. We are ethereal, we are constant, we are alive.

I can't help but feel I miss you. It is both the easiest, and the hardest illness to cure.