I’d rather smash my teeth right out of my own head than drag myself out of bed for another day spent wishing that you would stop talking. I’d rather slam my face right into the windshield than listen to how you feel about as many things. Keep vomiting until my head is pounding.
Most days go by slow, and it never stops, and you never stop to think your thoughts or just listen up and hear how the world will sound when it goes on without you.
Most days go by slow. Most days I move slowly, hope time will forget me. Most days go by so slow. Most days I move so slowly, hoping time will forget me.
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