"They keep writing songs and making movies about you, as if you exist. I spent fractions of seconds on hoping, waiting, and searching that you’ll come or that I’ll find you. You can’t exist, can you? Why would you? That’d make me happy. You see, morning hasn’t come yet so I’m still dreaming. I like my dreams. They’re the best lie I’ve got. They’re even more real than you. Tell them to stop the movies and the serenades. I hoped I would someday find you, an extension of me, but I’m really all I’ve got…"

— scatterbrained thoughts, 22

posted 1 year ago with 39 notes