play vera lynn at my funeral, though i don’t think we will meet again. i’m not morbid, i’m just forgetful, and i think it’d be a funny way to end.
but i can wait to get there. i know that light is somewhere so i’ll fucking find it i swear, tie it down and drag it back home. sunburnt like every summer, sleepless like every new year. if i die, i’m dying right here. all my friends, i’m begging you stay close.
real life: it will get you every time. oh my god. now let me contradict the last few things i wrote, like, “i’m not morbid, i’m just forgetful”. because i am morbid. the dam is fucking breaking.