[A/N:
The song attached is where I got the title from. Also the song that was playing while I wrote the first small story. If you want a good feel for this I recommend listening to any song attached. Without further ado, I give you some odd form of venting.]
It's that one couch that you've slept on so many times, ya know the one that's really comfy when you fall asleep but killing your back when you wake up? Yeah that one. It's that bathroom mirror that always seems to magnify your flaws. It's the pitter patter or rain, maybe snow. You aren't sure because who cares enough to check anyway. It's listening to that one band you tell everyone to listen to, but no one likes them like you do. Its feeling so alone in a room full of people that you have no idea what to even say when someone approaches you. Its feeling so alive in one moment, like you could laugh for hours, then filling the silence with tears in the next.
YOU ARE READING
We Might Never Make It Out
RandomThis is going to be a collection of poems, stories, rants, and any other writings I need to give a home. I will update this sporadically. Please enjoy, I promise there's something good in here somewhere.
