Don’t pretend to hold it in, just let it out. Don’t pretend to…
What am I pretending?
Oh, I know this one.
The Heartless…Those without hearts…
Thanks for clarifying, Leon.
But maybe…that was important after all? Because there’s a difference between those “without hearts” and those “without heart.”
Guess who’s the former?
Maybe it’s just “heart challenged,” like a disorder. Is there such a thing?
Maybe then we’ll close the curtain on this stained glass masquerade.
It’s like Shakespeare, where everyone around is weeping and dueling and falling to the dust, while the witch looks back on what she’s done,
Or let be done.
Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou
I feel powerful. Is that a bad thing?
I feel excited. Is –
I feel no pain. Is –
Is my sadness ever real? Is -
Who am I writing this for? Certainly not for me. No, for the audience of the Globe, my adoring fans. Sweet faces, I perform for thee.
Not even written for myself. Is that dramatic irony? Who knows. But it’s never completely for me, you know. It’s to make you feel sorry for me. Working yet?
Look in my eyes, you’re killing me, killing me, all I wanted…
Really? Honestly? Because I don’t feel it.
Break me down.
Okay.
Love is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.
I suppose that could be true.
There is no pain when I scrawl pain across the pages, just the image of it, and a secret, mad joy in the pretended reconciliation.
In real life? Just the image.
Because none of us were angels and you know I love you, yeah…
I’m sure I do. Really. What’s that feel like to you? You know, so I know I’m getting it right.
Let’s get away, just for one day.
Let’s just stop with the liking and the loving, okay? Just once? I swear, it’s for your own good.
I have wandered far and wide for something real, something to die for.
Maybe I just haven’t found it yet. But that’s awful, I can’t say that. I have so much here, so much love…I can’t hurt anyone, is - I care, right?
I am more than…more than wanted.
Really now? Like what? Because honestly, I’m rather vain. When I’m not liked, I’m not much of anything.
And I will try to fix you.
I’m so sorry, but I can’t let you do that. I cry alone. I know you’ve waited so long for the chance,
but really.
How am I supposed to cry to you about not being able to cry to you?
You should know these colors that you’re shining are…
Guess no one sent me the memo.
Seethefunnythingis
I thought we were happy.
I will be tomorrow.
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