All I can feel is the intense white of my not even white walls collapsing as I lie in bed. I am not in bed. I am not in the rain. I am in the kitchen, at the computer, surrounded by yellow and brown.

It is so artificial everywhere and the only place I can stand it is my morning cup of coffee.

Too many identical days whiz by without anything of interest happening. All I can think about it how I want that perfect kiss. And how much it aches to spend 7 to 4 shuffling from desk to desk and boredum to boredum.

No one is coming to take me away. I'll be the girl left standing in the rain you'd never hear about in hollywood endings.



hold me close like we both died
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