'Yeah.
I really am a shit person.'

They usually go.
You just smile sadly for a bit first.

Like when you want to help.
I just end up messing it up.

I know people don't really like me so much.
It's okay.
You get used to it after a while.

Just sigh and imagine the pleural membrane around your lungs sliding against your ribs.

The human body is so full of cushioning.
Kind of ironic how there's no mental padding.

I'm such a freak. Nobody else would be thinking of pleural membranes right now. They would be thinking of how to make themselves a better person. Or what's on T.V.

My jeans smell of alcohol. I wasn'tdrinking at the time it was spilled.

I'll just wait for them all to leave me.

And then I will go devote my mind to dreaming of you.

You are on my mind.

Constantly.

I love you.