i love…
…finding these rando blogs that i started once upon a time when i felt inspired to show off to no one in particular.
everytime i’m left alone in the shadow of a lover who meant much less than i wanted him to, i feel like i should start writing again. as if the boring cycle of fuck, sleep, leave (stretched over years at a time) is really something worth contemplating.
its so easy to simply stop caring. but i’d still like to sleep with someone (anyone?) tonight.
