Beautiful World, Where Are You

I mean literally, sell it for money, until I have a lot of money and no talent left. And then that’s it, I’m finished, and the next flashy twenty-five-year-old with an impending psychological collapse comes along.

on some level. Right? It has to

That’s what kills me. I spent half my twenties with this person, and in the end he just got sick of me. I mean, that’s what happened. I bored him. I feel like that says something about me