My eyes feel like they're rotting out of my skull. Just lovely. It's been a long, uneventful day and I'm ready for tomorrow. My bedroom walls only hold my secrets because I've got a big mouth and can't hold my own. They're the only ones who see me fidget with my hair and slice up the tips of my fingers while I wait for you to call. They only know who I am, not who I pretend to be. And I only tell them everything because- it feels like home. Walls don't talk. But if they did then this mask would melt and the walls would collapse and you'd know me and I'd see you. But walls don't talk. And this is why I'm sitting here wishing they did, because then I wouldn't have to be "me" anymore. I could be ME. I swear to god I'm through with this. Yeah, Bethy. Keep telling yourself that. Another lie only helps the story, right? Right.
forgeteverythingistillsay
-BETHY
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1 comment:
Some walls suck at listening. Some walls tell people unwillingly.
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