Mirrored Glasses Over Your Eyes.

So many things I wish I could write down that I'll never remember, like in the midst of crying trying to burn thoughts into my brain so they don't slip away so easily like the tears down my face framing my lips, my smile. As children we only know raw emotion, and it may be expelled at that moment, hurt yourself. cry. love it. laugh. But over time our guardians teach us to bottle emotions and make them much more complicated. Guilt, hate, lust, longing, admiration... now we can't cry.

Now I can't cry.

(The rest of this post has been edited and not even revised, because it means so little to me. Those past few months are a blur, and I remember nothing but alcohol and late-night-movie-watching. Innocence and nothing else. Jesus Christ, there are so many fucking people that need to act their age and not sweat the small stuff. More on this later. FUCKKKKK. I hate the people that come into work. Childish old people need to die.)