The lives of my friends are growing all around me like suburbs. They're expanding while I'm still just the same old empty warehouse. A fading facade. A depreciating asset.
Soon I'll become a liability, and dangerous to be near. Promise to tear me down and rebuild. Re-zone my heart. It will become an historic landmark one day, I swear.
In the meantime, everyone around me is still an open wound. I'd give it all away to sleep the whole night through again.
I'm pretty sure that I've never felt a pat on the back that I didn't suspect as being a shove. I've been too busy writing tragedy to notice that you and I are shaping up to do big things.
Been tracking the new panic at the disco album. It will be the jaws of life to your ears this summer, prying away the lull. Pretty. Odd.
BulletproofLoneliness
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