Woke up with bloody, bruised knuckles and a faint memory of calling out a name
I feel like a teenager tryna spew out about being a teenager.
I spent an entire morning on the phone, dribbling, and letting my dog bite open the wounds on my fingers. She licked off the blood while I professed why I can't think straight. I confessed why I can't sleep at night. And I lied about having regrets that I don't have.
I could've sworn that I swore this off. This is fucking typical.
