Days go by and I’m unable to locate any explanation of what I witnessed outside of my home, but there’s an exp of numerous other reports on various other shootings that happened in town within this short window of time and stranger still a party riot over at CU Boulder where hundreds of people participated in and culminated in a few destroyed cars and trashed streets. Here I am though, still no answers on what transpired in my own area.
at this point i don’t even want to know how you did it, how you got so close and especially how you feel like home even if i barely know you. this is probably a mistake, thinking about you how i do, i’m only going to get hurt, but why does that feel worth it in my head? i want you to need me as much as i need you and the fact that you don’t is killing me. i wait for a text that doesn’t come every single night, and then i fall asleep with a single tear, a little bit of the hope i put on you goes away with it. at this point, you made me hate james arthur. i miss you.
Why are you so quiet? U used to have SO much to say.
I miss the old days when we were just a couple of punks.
If you were a season you would be spring; full of sweetness, optimism and sunshine.
If you were a flower you would be a daisy; unpretentious and understated, but unmistakably beautiful.
If you were a colour you would be sage; cool, calming, and natural.
You have the soul of an angel and the heart of a saint, and there’s noone humbler or kinder than you.
You are delicate and vulnerable, yet forthright and strong. You are formidable, but welcoming. Private, but open. Careful, but generous.
You are special. Never change, and stay strong and true to yourself. You do not need to change.
Honey, it hurts me to see how Stockholm Syndrome got the best of you. Please self quarantine and make sure that you don’t pass it to other innocent souls.