evil don't look like anything
2017-06-13 7:04 p.m.

it's a strange thing when you try to tell someone you adore that you can't think of them any longer. not like they particularly care or anything. so its odd. but nevertheless, you pine. and it passes in time, but until then, you want to think on them for no end. if the door knocks, you want their face to appear on the other side. you want it to be what you wanted it to be all along.

leaving the city feels like diving off the end of a sentence into a shallow page. it should be a crime punishable by death to drive across the new bay bridge with your windows rolled up.

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