| Nothing feels wrong. I dunno that anything emotes any response. I feel so naturally cold and outside.
I want to write more. I write a lot but delete and burn most of it. It's mostly garbage I think. I like Smckey Robinson. I need to finish something. I keep working on nothing and nothing ever becomes something. I lack, cohesion and conclusion.
Today I woke up and untied my pink handcuffs. I was told that I was bold and legit unforgivable. I wouldn't forgive me. Shouty... | 
