and when they ask why i dyed my striking blue hair back to the color of my eyes i shrug and say "i just got tired of it"
and i always do. i cannot help the way my eye become calloused to beauty, or how everyone around me seems shallow. i cannot help how my hometown seems ugly but my new town seems bland. nothing is enough for me.
i am tired. tired of this place, tired of these people, tired when i wake up in the mornings. i sleep for 3 hours and i cannot think straight. i sleep for 12 and my body is heavy. i had 3 cups of coffee this morning, one to keep me company while the sun rose, one to keep my eyes from shutting and a third to stain my fingers. i think maybe I'm tired of life.
how can i make you understand that you are the one thing i never tire of? you're pick cotton candy and vinyl records and christmas lights. moulin rouge and bitten fingernails and rows and rows of shallow cuts upon your upper thigh.
but in the beginning of september when i lay on the beach 800 miles away, i thought of you. and i thought of the time you told me my eyes were your favorite color