(frozen seams)

My brain is the first day growing out of an end to the days we walked as children.

And i fucking hate it.

Hate staring at the lonely sky, thinking over all the time i wasted being in love when i should have just disappeared. given into the night's reckless whims without the burden of a heart bleeding over with desire for the one girl in the world i should've never held after that last kiss on avenue a.

Fucking dreams. fucking memories. fucking floods of emotion welling over me even as i try still not to be angry when i should just deal with the fact that i allowed myself to be fucking hurt.

And i only wish i could allow myself to do the same.