I exhaust my options again
Until none of this makes any sense
And I thought that I could get by alone
When I wash my hands
I wear them down to the bone
Oh, I'm waiting but can people change
Is it going to go away
Oh, I swear that I can hear my name
It's never going to go away
When I lie at night
I reach for an empty space
When I think of your voice
I can almost see your face
And I thought that I could get by alone
When I wash my hands
I wear them down to the bone
Oh, I'm waiting but can people change
Is it going to go away
Oh, I swear that I can hear my name
It's never going to go away
Oh, I'm waiting but can people change
Is it going to go away
Oh, I swear that I can hear my name
It's never going to go away
Never going to go away
Can hear my name
Is it going to go away
Can people change
Is it going to go away
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this is a cloud-centric ramble now but one thing i appreciate about the remake is that they let him be weird, and they did it right. cloud, just muttering to himself, constantly zoning out mid conversation, having an entire flashback about something completely unrelated while you’re explaining something important, taking things face value and saying the first “coolest” thing that comes to mind and then getting caught up when people poke at him for it, the cracks in his hardass attitude, and the genuine smugness he feels but doesn’t want to show about doing something people praise him for.
fav scenes so far: anything with jessie, that scene where tifa says she wont let him off the hook this time and he just goes :0 and nods.
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GUIDE TO TROUBLED BIRDS SENTENCE STARTERS
i’m a 100% organic gangster.
another drink wouldn’t hurt— i only live two years.
anxiety and caffeine are having a cockfight in my brain.
oh. you’re an artist.
as always, all i should have said was, ‘i love you.’
you’ve been through hell and come out singing.
i puke in my kids’ mouths.
birds are creepy.
oh, i’m sorry— did i just blow your mind?
i hope you’ll excuse my cheap wit, but the hour is late and it’s all i have left.
i’d sell you to satan for one corn chip.
my crazy runs wide and it runs deep.
da fuq?
dealing with you is like herding cats.
i work hard at my job, but i suspect i’m purely decorative.
i’m a dirty bird.
i disembowel. it’s what i do.
don’t judge— i clean up real nice.
my only crime was that i was down to clown.
drink. travel. books. i went broke. but i had a hell of a time.
they might have passed a very pleasant evening had shit not gotten real.
evolve.
he proclaimed his undying fidelity and asked me to do the same.
i had to overcome my desire to laugh.
finally he gathered himself together and spoke, ‘what the hell?’
i’m always exchanging frequent flyer miles for guilt trips.
god can’t help you now.
he gave them the heebie-jeebies. he had nothing else to give.
mind if i just hum?
i’m humanphobic.
i do not go to my happy place. i go to my high lonesome place.
i have a natural talent for being irrational.
a financially unstable mess— but at the liquor store they call me ma’am.
looking for trouble, and if i cannot find it, i will create it.
i meditate mostly for a 15 minute break from this ongoing shitshow.
my modus operandi is the dial up of the awesome and break the knob off.
my self care begins and ends with edibles.
oh jesus. oh my god.
i couldn’t afford a therapist, so i decided, ‘hey, why not start a podcast?’
i poop on fascists.
the risk i took was calculated but man, am i bad at math.
she was lovely and charming, almost a saint. she enjoyed laughter and dancing, opera, jazz, and getting very, very, very high.
my self care begins and ends with wine.
i’d sell you to satan for one corn chip.
i’ve never been one to half-ass shenanigans.
the ability to remain sober and gracious is, indeed, a form of mild insanity.
i would look into your soul, but i’ve already devoured it.
things just got super weird— it’s my time to shine.
you’re three ounces of whoop-ass.
i’m worth two in the bush.
i love you despite the warning signs.
whom.
i fancy myself a woke-ass citizen of the world.
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