#201.

"'Hi, guess who's back,' I can hear the smile in your words.
'Hey, how you feeling?'
'That really took a lot out of me,' 
'Yeah, me too. Do you have to go? I need some sleep,'
'Yeah same, need to get up early tomorrow,'
'Oh, okay, talk to you tomorrow then..'
'Night, sweet dreams, baby,'
'Yeah, you too.'
Click. Eyes shut I drift off, smiling.


I wake up the next morning, mouth tasting of insomnia. I sit up in bed, feeling my whole body awaken from the sleep that took it over. I comb my hair back with my fingers, and step out of bed. I breathe in through my nose, the air burning on the way down. My throat precariously dry from last night, I push myself to a trudge, taking myself into the kitchen. I open the pantry and fill a glass with cold water. With hesitation, I throw it back as if it were a shot, and with one last burning sensation, my throat returns to its old self. I recall what happened, contemplating, and I attempt to push it out of my head, to forget. Immediately, there's remorse, everything is filled with remorse. Yet somehow I need it. You have become my addiction. Right before you go, you pull me in, just so it hurts that little bit more."


Fucking jerk.

Hello, this is Tien. This blog is the remains of the unconventional cliches and angsty phrases of my teenage years. (Plus a new one every now and then)
I ♥ Phoenix, (500) days of summer, double entendres, unmade beds, autumn, Chopin, syncopated melodies, G7 chords and things that make me feel.

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coyote(s)