You tricked me into loving you, where as every person I meet leaves me blank and dull, I am severely affected by you. And now that you left, I am thrown in to a cold turkey detox where I literally lock myself up in a room, shivering in my bed sweating heavily, worrying about meeting more pointless, good looking strangers, that I might fuck once in a while because I miss you. I am constantly being flown in to new places, a must to get out of this memory lane - your face is plastered on every touristic landmark here. Everywhere I go, with all the faces I talk to, I try to find a connection, searching for some sort of physical string that attaches me to someone else. And no matter what kind of glimpse of a feeling I might have everything will involve you in some way, because this house I live in is a constant reminder of you, you, you and me. Now it’s just me in an empty house.
I’ll flee again in a few days, hopping from city to city, where I will be too busy with the shape of an overpriced dress on a stick. Surface is my rescue right now. Anything else is dull, mind-fucking and over appreciated anyway
