i’m currently in boxers and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up. My friends are asleep on the couch. the cauldron is empty.
halloween was a mess.
I’m typing these words on my phone: from binge watching the second season of Stranger things (fairly decent sophomore season) to bumping into girls in short black dresses underneath a wet, green bustop across from my local corner shop, half-drunk before the party had even begun. now there is just silence in the whole damn house except from the obscure Bright Eyes acoustic ballads playing over and over again. Keeping me in company.
frankly the meaning to this post has gone and I’ve spent so littletime on it.
i feel like i should get some sleep, as I’ve got to be up early later to nab early access Morrissey tickets for his UK tour. Leeds’ anyone?
hell, maybe if she was still around, I’d be tearing up to Lua holding her hands, playing with her red hair. She’s probably dyed it by now.
it’s funny really, this is so damn personal and I’m not even wasted.
ultimately i guess it wasn’t cool, we didn’t work out as friends. It was always feelings or nothing. the joke of that is lost on me and i don’t think i ever realised.
Ben Brizell 