Ocean Breathing Waves, Feel Them Licking At My Face.

I am prone to disaster, to complete and total breakdown. Meltdown mode, I find myself stuck in it far too often. I'm sitting here, silent, waiting for my phone to buzz. Give me some sort of a reminder that you're still alive. But I won't pick it up, I'd rather read the news online or dust my empty shelves than hear what you have to say. Certainly I'm an accident happening to wait, mini crisis after mini crisis interrupting my routine of boredom. To be perfectly honest, I would choose to spend my entire day having thumb tacks stuck in the tips of my fingers than with you. I'm the roots, you're the branches, so easy to saw off and forget they ever existed. But if you take down the trunk, what happens to the tree? That's exactly what you've become to me, and there's no one to blame but yourself. It's too bad really, neither of us saw this one coming. Like a train wreck, here it is. Everybody's slowing down to see the damage, craning their necks and silencing their radios. Just in case something explodes, or did it already? Whatever comes of this, I hope you find it ugly.