My chest feels like, a construction zone after a demolition is cleared up. Iust a big hole that needs some sort of cement-filler in it. Or water. Or a good natural catastrophe.
I've always wanted to know how to not die on a longboard. Unfortunately, I relate things, music, and places to people I've loved, and looking online at longboards has put my eyes to bawl.
I don't want tuesday to happen again.
I was hammered, I was miserable. I didn't like it. I wanna get on a bus and go far away. That's what she did, right? And I guess it worked for her.
I should do the same. I should get a coop job across Canada and only look back at my house, where my mom and my guineapig would be.
I can start a new life anywhere I go. I've done it before.
My eyes burn again. I can't sleep. I feel inadequate.
God damn it, Mau.
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