Aug 9th : I think neurotically

I think I hate him. I think I do.
I think he forgets me, too easy, too soon. Too quickly.
Too.

I think the whole fucking world has ended in a ball of fire and brimstone, and I think I can smell the sulphur all the way down. Smell it in the rain. Muddied mess caking to my shoes.

I think, I think, I think my head will explode.

I think you tell a lie.

I think I think I think too much.

I think I am unkind.

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