i like to think that living in the dusk would be best. all cloudy shadows and shadowy clouds. i would wear shoes, still.
'i hate it. i'm such a fucking idealist.'
'you're not idealistic. just.. romantic. believing the best. believing it can happen. thinking nicely about the fate of the world and the people in it'
'not such a bad thing?'
'not such a bad thing.'
the words build up behind my fingers when all i have to write is bleak futures and matted blood hair. books pile up behind my bed when the time to mind - open leaves me, evaporates for the time i need to procrastinate.
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