draft last saved: august fourteenth, two thousand and twelve, eleven:fifty-five am.
i wish you were still around. actually, no, i wish that i wished you were still around. i wish i didn't hate you so much and that the thought of seeing you didn't make me want to jump off the balcony. i wish i wasn't so melodramatic.
it's just that i'm empty now, and i think that you could be my ink. i have no more words, but you always seemed to be spitting them out like they were filling up your closet and you really needed room for your shoes. i could take some off your hands. i have no emotions, but i remember you crying and laughing and shouting three times a day. maybe you could share some with me. it's okay if you only want to give me the bad. they were always my favorite anyway.
because i'm no longer an empty canvas, but i never quite made it to masterpiece. i am covered in scribbles and strike outs and there is no place for me to add anything that has any chance of being seen, of being distinguished from the mess of mistakes i've tried to hide. but i think the brightness of your red would be pretty against my dull grey. i think people would stop to read if it stood out like that. i think i might still have a chance if you were still around.
i wish you weren't the kind of person that's so much better when they're far away.
*30 Minute Boyfriend - Julian Casablancas