theyllneverfindoutifyouputitinablogpost

i think i'm depressed again. it's weird how realizations hit you. in your bed, on a waterslide, in the car next to your dad. i think this laugh is fake, i think i'm 14 again, dreading a world that only wants me well. i hope she isn't watching this. i think you could cure me. why aren't you curing me? why do you not want me around? i only care for this when i'm sober. longing for the bottle by day, wishing i had more by night. i'm love-drunk, punch-drunk, drunk-drunk. i hope the tiles leave a mark. i hope you leave a mark. i wish i could remember what went wrong. i'm glad i don't. awkward conversations with an old friend remind you that you're not 14 anymore. life goes on, friends come and go, puke still stains the back porch. i'm coming over and i'm sleeping in your bed. a change of scenery could be good, they said.

and if the devil loves details

then godliness floats in the vague

and i can't remember how i felt at that stage

though i'm pretty sure that i was in love with you