what, even, BIC Classic Fine? I thought we were friends.
so I’m bad at a lot of things, most of the time. but I’m worst at mornings.
at least there’s the Cure.
bad at leaping, good at falling
stumbling, at least
and, at company
she initiates flirtation
he initiates flirtation
I’d rather he did
I forget words
and whether you like me, at all
or, I always thought otherwise
something somebody said, something
let’s be cute
the Smiths, ‘Ask’
what it’s like in my mind: being shy
I never say stuff right. mostly.
so dude I met the other night was absolutely tall and desperately skinny. and with nice hair. and cheekbones. and mad sleeves. which pretty much makes him my type.
… but he didn’t know who Morrissey is.
and that’s not the kind of thing that I should get uncomfortable about. but. hello, oh?