You should have called me. You should have fucking called me last night. Oh well. I'll get over it, because I love you. We all think about it. You did it. It's hard. Right. Isn't it. I think about it more and more. I want to join that group. I wish I had the strength to. Those weeks just about ended five minutes ago. It ends every time shit goes down. I get through it some days. Better then most days. We never see each other enough. We get each other so much. And have been there for each other for a lot. We are totally chilling this upcoming week. We have a lot of artistic shit to workout. I got your message three hours too late tonight. I'm glad I decided to come over here and talk to you. I don't know how you stood by my shit last year. I fucking love you man.
Wake up people. Shit isn't materialistic anymore. I would have been there in a second if... Well I'm not finishing that, because I know my readers. So I will leave the fucking world in suspense. And just keep another thing to myself. Another fucking thing, no one will know, or remember or care to ask about. Those three simple words have become so much more.
I like to believe that you know. That you see. Pictures don't do it justice anymore.
If you would open up your fucking eyes, you'd take the time. Whatever. There's a song I want you all to hear right now. But that's gonna be just another thing I keep to myself.
Art makes me lose it. Art gets me through it. Art is everything I breathe.
Love,
Everything you want to hold.
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