I’m always a mess. I can never keep my own secrets. I laugh too hard at stupid things. My favorite songs can make me cry. I always watch for 11:11, but miss it more than I notice it. I live in the past, in the memories I have with the people I love. I hate thinking about reality and I’m so homesick that it’s not even funny. But not homesick in a missing my house kind of way, maybe it’s more like heartsick for all the things that I can’t get back. It’s hard for me to define myself, I guess I’m just a cliche. The girl who loved too hard & didn’t get anything in return.