I read your depression sent through the inernet.
I am not there. I never have been. As the words of sorrow slip through the slits of mind, I keep them tucked away, because there’s a hottie that needs to be talked to.
One day I’ll realize you’re the only person worth talking to, and one day I’ll realize I should have cherished you.
One day you will stop loving me. And one day I will start. I wish you would leave me, but then again, I wish you would be here forever.
God I’m a fuck up, I will be there. Whether you are or not.