of all the small things.

2006-05-29

who will be there for you when i'm gone?

many, many, others.

because i'm not worth it, because i am not the fulcrum on which your life balances on, because i am not the switch to your computer, because she is the key to your lock and the hand to your glove.

talking just doesn't cut it anymore. in fact, it actually makes it worse. 'i don't know what you want, i don't know what i want. i just know that it's not this.' so when i one day vanish, if you don't realise i'm gone till a month later, please, at least leave me roses by the stairs.

my red linen pants and my betulas, they can go to you.