Boys Like It When You Imprison Them In The Ornate Birdcage That Hangs In The Centre Of Your Lair

there's a stage in sandwich consumption where it's falling to pieces & you're desperately cupping it in your hands & it's like this poor wounded animal that is covered in mustard & wants to die

why do i have to take care of this idiot (me) every single day cant she do anything on her own

death isnt enough. i need to never have existed

ok who can save me

anyone wanna take me out back and shoot me like an old dog

i’m not hot enough to make up for how weird i am

I have a joke about math but im 2² to say it

the “i wanna go home” never leaves my head even when i’m physically sitting in my bed

AND I KNOW NONE OF THIS'LL MATTER IN THE LONG RUN

BUT I KNOW A SOUND IS STILL A SOUND AROUND NO ONE

AND WHILE I'M IN THIS BODY

I WANT SOMEBODY TO WANT

AND I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT YOU