I can feel the drugs in my veins. The consistency of the beating is oddly comforting.
Sorry I fucked everything up.
Elliott Smith's death was ruled a suicide, but her story just doesn't sound right. More like an aggravated attack and accidental homicide.
All anyone ever knows of me anymore is drugged out and unreal. The new me. Version 2.0
I do love you, you know. It's the truest thing I've ever said.
Please don't give up on me.
Time for bed.
Morning eyes meant ony for you wake up to nothing. Close them back. Roll over. Try again later.
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