My imagination. We're kissing, laughing, having a pretend pillowfight. Making sandwiches and tea. Watching a crappy movie just to have an excuse to focus on eachother and not the screen. Time to spoon. Strange, I can't feel the cold wind anymore.
Reality. We're miles apart. Bitter, insecure, sometimes also apathic. I hear your voice, you hear mine but I'm not really here. You're not there. You're not listening. YOU DON'T KNOW. But it's my fault. I guess I just demand more... More than possible to give. Now it's all about who'll be fast enough to hang up first. Practise makes perfect. If I'm a slut, you're a moron. That's all for today.
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