Money makes me want to cry. If you have it, you're good. I never have. I'm not saying I want to be rich. I just want to afford to actually be something.
Which is just about the same thing here.


I hate this. I feel so trapped.
Especially right now.


Seven weeks. 5 0 0 0 m i l e s 

S T O P

Maybe I shouldn't have laughed. Maybe I shouldn't have wanted you to feel bad. But I did. Sorry.





But it was hysterical.
Really.

A Silver Boat in the Yard

I really hate how words can in no way bring on the same mental reaction as sounds do. Putting lyrics up is not enough.

l i s t e n

And that is that.

Because I've run out of courage. Talk to me some other time.

So. Can I ask another question? 

Why?

Because I'm a young fool?

Because I'm an impatient bitch?

Because I'm really shallow?

Because I require tools to perform?

Because I wish I didn't?

Because I'm sick and tired of the stillness?

Because I'm sick and tired of the noise?

Because all I want to do is fucking move my feet?

Because you think you're the only one who's allowed to want that?

Because I'm naive enough to think you can't tell?

Because you're the most adorable and terrifying thing I have ever seen?

B I N G O

Now I'm done.

So I guess I was in the mood for something risky. Or I was sick of my own cowardice. Either way, I was courageous. For no real reason. But it was nice to know I'm not as dumb as I thought. 

God. Damn. It.

So. I have a question.
Why the hell did I let that happen?
 I very basically dropped my shield and tossed aside my weapons. Asked for it.
And just what did that get me, you ask?

A straight shot to the heart.

ouch

Do you know the definition of 'disarm'?

Because you're pretty damn good at it.

I didn't even really hear you you know.
Just watched.
Your lips, I mean.


You know how people talk about how sometimes, in specific moments, the world seems to stop turning and time slows down and all? And of course there are those who say that's the most cliche thing ever.

Well that shit actually happens.
I mean it.
And the memory is so blurred.
And also clear.
I don't really know. Again.

I even found a song that encompasses the whole 'I don't even know' thing I have. Thanks Claude.

But actually. Time to stop. You. And me. Need to stop.


S T O P

please?

Because this is about to be a problem. Really.









Five thousand miles?

London is 5456 miles away from here.


Five thousand miles?
 

Really though. Time to stop. I mean it. No more. Really.

or

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. I'll never stop, I'll always feel like this, will you not just try? Please?

I can't really choose.

Some more what?










You're killin' me, Smalls.

I'm caught between immense jealousy and a blossoming feeling of appreciation for how incredibly heartwarming the two of you are. Over forty years together. Unbelievable. That never happens to celebrities. At least not here.

But I am unable to believe I cannot rival her.
And at the same time, I want you to stay together for ever. And ever.

I'm very good at doublethink. Very good indeed.

Don't you dare question my dreams.

You could have just left it alone.
Left me alone.

I guess I'm just making a point of how naive I am.

Ignorance is Strength.
Don't you mean ignorance is bliss?
No.
Because you believe a whole lot harder with your eyes shut.

This is just swell.
Really fucking swell.

I don't really like to turn on the lights. It makes the rest of the world seem too dark.

So I guess I'm feeling pretty good. Except for the fact that I'm terrified I won't have my music ready for rehearsal on Tuesday. With the cast. I know it's sad, but when it comes to musical appearance, I'm a shallow, materialistic bitch. Really, I am. I hate looking like a bad or inexperienced musician. Hate it. And I would hate for hate for the cast to see me that way. It could ruin everything.
Absolutely everything.