˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

friends -> nearly lovers -> something else -> strangers

-> finally lovers — walk with me while i tragedy bait though. because im thinking of canon mike wheeler, whose ending will never be real to me. btw. anyways. imagine you're mike wheeler: you can't talk about it. you can't talk without talking about it. so you dont talk. you sit in your parents basement and you write a better ending. you use your fathers aftershave, and you part your hair to the same side. you try to ignore the ache clawing to get out of your chest, the one screaming that you're dying. you're dying, and you probably deserve it. you write another ending. it'll never be good enough. you never write the one you want. you write around the gaps; you fall through them. you sleep at your desk, eye to eye with a stranger slaying a dragon. he wears your face, and the shame wraps under your arms, familiar, a hug from an old friend. you'll never figure it out. you can't look at it. you swallow a million apologies, and you hang up after the first ring. you ache. you deserve it. you'll never get what you want; you'll never even open your mouth to ask for it. you don't want things to change. you'll die if they don't. you'll wear an extra layer. you'll clean your glasses. you'll write a better ending. you have to write a better ending.

“not one crush of mine worked out” I DONT CAREEEEEEEEE

let's be several years behind together

u can't have a band where everyone is into heroin it'll never go anywhere you need at least one bitch on coke and or type a calling up everyone's house to make them come to the studio