everything's replaying, for the hundredth time now. hundreth? hundredth? whatever. first time i could care less about what i spell. too much in my head. hipocracy. and being true to myself. my forehead feels more than comfortably warm. where is God? i forgot Him for a while. maybe that's why. i'm sorry. i don't need this right now. i'd rather be a flower. trying to playing it cool. failing horribly. erase everything and feeling. and being. to roam the streets and go backpacking through europe. to find the same sticker in a different story. my words have gotten me nowhere. my actions have retraced the same old mistakes. and now i don't know where to head. and for the first time, i want to know. i'd really rather not leave everything up to spontaneuity. it's not just the allergies that make me cry. broken cinderella wheels and soggy tissues. just a few more years. until i can throw away everything because i choose to. just a few more years. i can keep up. i can, i can. and i will.
please go away.
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