17, sixth form, party hard, live forever.
I met a boy, With a golden glow and a broken soul And he sang: "We're all dying, it's just some of us are trying that little bit harder...".
Февраль, достать чернил и плакать, Писать о феврале навзрыд....
I really, really needed him then and he wasn't there. What I didn't realise until now is that he felt even worse than I did, we just couldn't stand to be in our own skins..
No, this is how it works: You peer inside yourself, You take the things you like and try to love the things you took.