You play stoner like I play lush.

So this is the pick-up to where we left off.

I'm suddenly magnetic.

Who knows how far gone you really are. Pink eyes and uncoordinated stagger should not be this endearing. But what am I supposed to do when you're asking for hugs every five minutes and resting your head on my shoulder constantly? You are the epitome of a placebo effect manifestation. Most of you, anyhow. And it makes the night bittersweet. Because I tend to be a sucker for utterances of "I love you" under the influence. And without any requests for any of this, you catered to what I cross invisible fingers for on intoxicated nights. When the people surrounding you lose their inhibitions, you tend to knock down some walls as well. Living in ignorant bliss thinking that it all actually means something. Not that it's never meant nothing, it's just never meant all that I want it to mean.

Let's never talk about this again because I didn't want it to mean that much to me.

--Lauren

[what was ... what will be]