A friend of mine's got two shrinks: one to talk to, the other — to get them prescription drugs.
A friend of mine sleeps with her boss and is his wife's BFF.
A friend of mine travels the world to avoid thinking about things, pretending she's OK.
A friend of mine is into girls, yet she keeps changing guys just like she does clothes, sincerely believing her one and only is out there.
That couple I know are meant for each other, but are taking some time apart, because the monotony of monogamy is hard to manage.
The friend of mine I occasionally screw pretty much enjoys the way we treat each other. He no longer believes in long-term relationships and loves the bitterness in me.
We fit together like a jigsaw puzzle and we meet and share our stories and laugh.

You and I, we are back on, nowhere close to something serious. I call us two-fucked-up-pricks. You seem not to have the vaguest idea as to what we are.
You take pride in owning me, but come the time to leave, you will leave and you won't look back, which I'm aware of.
And when you leave, I will move on, but will there be much left of me?

@музыка: placebo - begin to end

@настроение: 'No need to disguise or to pretend'

@темы: thoughts, oh-so-pathetic-me, love is the person you think about during the sad songs, fairytale is dead, unmagnificent lives of adults, coffee and cigarettes