I have my own universe.

I'm speaking to her. We've been since yesterday. We don't get to the point but we're moving so fast. I get jealous of her, I don't know if she recognises my fear or w/e but I'm jumping out of my skin trying not to tell her that I want to see her, that I'm desperate to feel her hands in mine. I just want to see her big black eyes and watch her lips move as she speaks. I feel guilty that she couldn't find happiness without me. But I don't want her happiness to be anyone else but me.

There's so much I want to do. I hate that my friends are doing it for me.

My Facebook drafts - S.B.

Not delivered. The truth eminates from how I feel in my art I can't explain it but once I start, the more I break it up in parts Everything shows me to myself.

Hungover high and some fuel

I dig my Tumblr cause it’s the only place I can be me, the real real me.