Life.

Her minds made up, She don’t want to go steady. She’s only 17, so she’s probably not ready.

Her minds made up, She don’t want to go steady. She’s only 17, so she’s probably not ready.

Ladders in tights, ink stained bags, tears over the future. For me, the cracks in the apparent newness of September life are beginning to show. I feel stupid to play some innocence is bliss card, and masking myself in delusions of change is neither sensible, or even half useful. […]