THE PRECURSOR.

I’ve alway been really good at leaving. But this time I have a couch, and a mattress I paid for. Nothings happened but everything, and I can’t narrow down the reason for the escape this time. I need credit card debt and no place to live for once.

I want therapy sessions I cancel for a bender. I need you stop messaging me at 6am. Better yet, I need to stop answering. I want a baptism and an exorcist. And I don’t care which order they’re in.

I don’t need a thirteenth reason.

Nor 1000 ways to die.

I need Instagram to stop telling me to get help.

I need a reason to get sober but I wanna pre game before. I want a new heart break. And I need no one to speak to me at all. Acting like I don’t want it all, and throw a fit when I get nothing. I wanna hear your favourite colour for the first time. And go back in time and leave my house 2 minutes later than I did.

I wanna get close just to push you away.

I’m not gonna breath till I’m on the plane.

I need an eat, pray, fuck.