I don't want to talk about it, I don't think you'd understand, how things can get so fucked up with such good intentions. If roofs turn to sky, held by the gravity of nothing, an ironic and literal making of a bed. You can walk away, but there is a reason to stay. They make bad jokes, it's okay not to laugh. For every push foward, feels like you get the same fucking push back. When you had nowhere to go, you found someplace, now with nothing to say you start lying what the fuck was i thinking (you ask) I'm not sorry... I'd do it all again. Now with all the lines so burred between hate, love, and revenge these are just dead feelings.