& though i know that my actions are impossible to justify; they seem adequate to fill up my time. but if i could talk to myself like i was someone else; well then maybe i could take your advice. & i wouldn't act like such an asshole all the time.
I talk too much and drink out of the carton. I have a pretty childish sense of humour, and I giggle. Alot. I dye my hair all the time.
if i touch a burning candle i can feel no pain, in the ice or in the sun it's all the same, yet i feel my heart is acheing, though it doesn't beat it's breaking, and the pain here that i feel, try and tell me it's not real, i know that i am dead, yet it seems that i still have some tears to shed.