It was in that late night, in which we were hiding. From something silly I suppose. And finally it was time to go, to disapear. And when he looked up at me with new, green eyes, I couldn't stand to look for more than a moment. It jerked something in me, a memory in which I was searching for something I had lost, and because of it I was someone different. I am too many people at once, and my words mean nothing anymore.

I hit it so hard, I make the springs creak. I'd do the same to your bones if only you'd let me. Trace my veins, try to find me a pathway, I hardly know where I am most days. We used to have so much in common but now all we share is a cheap coffin.

Put flowers on my grave so for once I might look beautiful.

I want to F. Scott Fitzgerald. An autobiography, written by me.

I love those moments in which you are barely awake, you are falling alseep or just waking up. In those moments I feel the closest to happy that I might ever get, I can't remember anything, just the sleepiness. Its like for a second, my brain is restarting, and for a second, its giving me the proper dose of chemicals. But then in the next moment it remembers who Iam, and it goes back to it's original state. If only a pill could make me feel that way forever.

without an evidentiary basis for them.