I lost myself in a boy who smoked cigerattes and drank alchoal and wrote songs about smoking cigerattes and drinking alchoal and about a girl who he was once crazy about, the girl he promised that he would stay.
Ever since I met him, he had become my whole life. I had no purpose before him. Now my purpose was him. And I hated that I loved it.
I hated that he didn't feel the same.
Or did he?
WARNINGS: drugs, strong language, adult content