Next time I go to an antique shop I’m
going to try my hardest not to think about
the Gallagher brothers or the colour of your
bra or how many times I’ve tried this before.

Somethings, some thinks are repetitive and
I think that that’s ok like the whurring of an air
conditioning unit, you can’t be
cool without it, so you just have to stop listening to it

eventually. I know that I could just ask
you by text, if I wanted to, and you’d tell
the truth, but where’s the fun in that? Isn’t
love supposed to be an air conditioning unit

it’s huge and an impossible distraction
but somehow, we all see the attraction