There are certain texts….certain people….certain things…all of which shouldn’t be done after midnight. My insistent hardheadedness is uncanny.
I don’t like pretense. If I like something, I want to just say that instead of using a zillion words to hide a simple point.
Maybe I didn’t really know you. Maybe you were just a mirage. Maybe the world is full of food and sex and spectacle and we’re all just hurling towards an apocalypse, in which case it’s not your fault. I’m been thinking about all these things and… you’re probably standing there monitoring. And one more thing - about the letter. Nuke it. Flame it. Destroy it. - It hurts me to know it’s out there. Later. - Lloyd Dobbler. Say Anything.