and

There is more to say
in a passive-agressive way:

I'm not in love.
Not with a boy at least.
It is easy to assume, because if my character is pervasive, I should fall head over feet and cling and justify and practically kill myself for warm eyes.
But I'm growing tired.
And even retracting drunk professions I had uttered.
The reason I let words explode so easily, the reason I didn't reach down and try mercifully to pick them up, was because i knew whatever I said
wouldn't come into the right light.
And maybe I'm wrong
maybe I'm tired of fighting
and fixing.
Maybe i was ignorant, but good intentions were all i had.
but we know where those go.

I wish home was still home. I'm just as terrified.
I've just called to apologize way too many times,
and it's not that I'm not sorry

my life is so lifeless nowadays,
as much as i try to pretend it's not.