my heart isn't at home now, would you call back in a day or two, when i'm feeling up to opening doors, but from now i'll take long walks down these broken avenues. did i ever show you all the things that make me feel alive? no i never told you and for that i apologise
it's so strange, how being at home for even a few hours, can completely screw you up. home is meant to be a happy place, 'home is where the heart is' right? no. because it's not. i hate this place. more than i thought was possible. even though my heart is here, left with that one person, i can't love this place, like it, can't even tolerate it. because i know the truth, that this love that is still fucking tormenting me, is, and always will be unrequited.
such is this that i say, fuck my life.
i really can not be fucked.
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