After working all day long nine days in a row, you can't help but being exhausted. Not even a mountain hike solves the problem.
Maybe it's boredom, or lack of people.
I hire a prostitute called Max
to tag and play hide and go seek; She thinks it's wierd, repressed sex stuff. I just miss having friends who are girls. Maybe it's the wrong prostitute.
I play with a squirrel, they are so nice and cuddly, almost like muffins; And I imagine you playing with us in the bushes too. Maybe it's the lies that break me down, or that special lie when you say you love me; or the simple fact, you wouldn't want me and your squirrel play in the bushes together..
Maybe it's the wrong boyfriend.
Or maybe I like to dwell.
whatsoever
It's not hard to wake up in the morning, feeling all alone and bitter. The trick is to go back to bed feeling at least better.
Last night you cut your hair, and you became such a beautiful grown-up boy. I was smitten with you while touching your head.
