I want to lean into it and give that teary eyed, quivering lipped, broken hearted boy staring back at me a hug. A hug that engulfs him and his pain and his problems and makes him feel loved and warm and comforted.
He’s scared. Very scared.
Poor boy. I don’t envy him.
Poor boy.
Im glad I’m not that boy in the mirror
I hate being the good guy :’(
I can’t do this anymore
I know I’ve been sat in this seat to long
I stood up and I can see my ass print
An it’s not the kind of chair that leaves prints…….




