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xnocigarx
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Name: Pamela
Interests: starbucks and how being a barista is my calling, coffee, dark coffee, black coffee, any coffee really. cute mugs, cute girls, cute tattoos, my long awaited nose ring and how lame i am for having it, glittery snow, jumping puddles in those august electrical storms, knowing i am once again capable of being in love, loving everything the way i do.
Message: message me
Member Since:
12/7/2004
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| i`ve never seen hills so beautiful, never been so far from home. i`ve never kissed boys so grown-up, you`d almost think they were men. the air was different, but i didn`t change a bit. the first one left the window open and i was cold all night. i should have taken the cab money but i walked all the way home, tried to clear my head, to make myself feel bad. i didn`t change a bit, all i could think of was his skin. i don`t remember much after that, too much liquor went straight to my head, a couple more boys went straight for my belt. i thought the twelve hour flight would help clear my head, get the truth out of my eyes or make me feel bad. i didn`t change a bit, all i could think of was their skin. | | |
| twenty four degrees and i`ve still got the shakes. | | |
| have you ever been to that place where you`ve had too much caffiene, and you know you have to sleep, but it`s all too much to breathe? everything we feel is what we shouldn`t feel, every moment that we steal will never really be ours. this feels lost from the start. christmas cards still hung on the fridge, don`t they know the snow is gone? by the time you`re back my hair will have grown a half an inch, my liver will be larger, i`ll forget how to speak. please hurry home before i forget how to breathe, this doesn`t feel okay. | | |
| you`re leaving again like people do. i know you`ll be back but it won`t be the same. you`ll realize you don`t need me to breathe. already i can`t sleep. | | |
| moving on is always strange. falling out of love with the old and in with the new. it always just feels like a dirty trick, like it`s only a matter of time, which i guess makes it not moving on at all. adjusting to the new and forgetting the old, changing the way you wear your eyes. no more paychecques in the mail, they have all my numbers, the money just throws itself away. like the last light of the day, i am forgetting the game, the rules, and how we used to play. i want to give myself to you but i never have enough to give. all the names before you took more than they should have, and i willingly gave it away. | | |
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