a/n: an email i sent to mitch on a shitty fucking night
but i can't get this out of my head: it's emotional
perfection.

-

i wanted to talk to you tonight, i wanted to know you were there. but i couldn't. i didn't know how to ask.
& now? & now(&now&now&nowi'mchoking&)i want to d i e.

my brain won't stop making lyrics, making lines—the only way
i cope when i'm so stressed, when i can't think, when i can't
keep going.

you're all i've got but
do i really have you? do i really? i feel

so
alone.

(iwantto b r e a k intoamilliontinypieces.)
(w i l l y o u b e a b l e t o
p u t m e b a c k together t o m o r r o w m o r n i n g ?)