11.11 p.m.

I wanted to-
really did,
but now it's different and I really can't give a fuck.
You can go on and do whatever you want you know,
because birthdays don't mean anything,
and I'm never good enough anyway.
So those endless nights of tears and screams can go on,
you,
can do whatever you want,
I'll sit here and pretend that you're not anything,
you'll never fucking understand,
don't pretend like you do, or try to.

Thanks Den for unknowingly cheering me up,
I love that you are nocturnal, that I can call you whenever I want,
Sorry for almost bawling over the phone, sniffing like shit, the tears just kept coming.
Really, you made Tuesday liveable, and giving me valauble puffy eye remedies.
(: