christmas will be coming soon and every day is snowy and we cant drive because the tracks will be too noticeable. your best friend brings us food, cakes and bread and beer. we cover the walls in foil and we try to grow pot. you make me feel like things are never going to improve. i am depressed because there is no uphill. you are depressed because the slide has come to an end and youre too lazy to climb the little ladder that leads you up again, away from my cold arms. i miss the way the my parents house smelled like a warehouse, and the feel of a mattress. when i cant sleep, i listen to shitty sad music that makes me cry until my eyeliner and mascara have stained the musty pillows black and you wake up and push my head down. honestly, i have an insane dream to live in a huge abandoned mansion, living off of hot sex with a boy who listens to indie pop, cooking stuff with an oven that plugs into the cigarette lighter, dreaming about the '20's when someone drowned in the massive pool that now is a brilliant green pond with bugs and low hanging trees.