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parties are the end of the world.

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ive been invited to a party this saturday. 

i think i will go, 

i think i will get as drunk as i can. 

to feel the painful crushing weight of the sunday hangover. 

im going to act as if i am in a french film. 

i will tell each person a different lie, 

tell them something i've made up about myself. 

these people dont know me. 

dont know me at all. 


but whats more likely, is that i will take a sip

and spill each little nodule of my soul and heart onto 

the threadworn rug of the student flat i'll be trapped in. 

and i'll fall in love with a boy who doesnt even look my way. 

and even in the darkened rooms of a student flat, 

he will ponder my spilled soul

and decide i could never be the one. 

not in a million parties, not even at his drunkest. 

and in my drunken state this will feel like the end of the world. 

but a song will play, and i will forget this world ending boy. 

and i'll find the girl who is collecting my noduled soul, 

and i'll kiss her on the head. 

we sat in a lecture together, picturing this moment. 





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◄ immature in elementary

the day I decorated one side of my wall ►


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Sat 4th Jun 2022 23:46

I've been to plenty of these parties Nadia. You know how they'll go and that's what happens. But still you hope they may surprise you. Great write.

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