not on the clock.
Friday, Mar. 07, 2003
i miss my boy, and i want to cry. i want to curl up on my floor and sob until my breath stops coming like it should. i want to turn up the music so i don't hear it, just feel it. i want to smoke a pack of cigarettes and let all of my aggression out with each exhale. i want to feel him as my throat tightens. i want to cry, but i have to be at work in ten minutes.
