I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.
Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.
I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on top of the beer can
You've only got so long to live.
Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.
Perhaps, perhaps this would be the one to pull me out of my plunge.