“But you didn’t have to cut me off…” 

It plays in the background on repeat and I don’t know what I should do. Should I just take it off? Should I add some Sting and Phil Collins to it, to make the sounds reverberating less depressing? The more I think of the words Gotye sings, the more I think of the things we’ve said to each other. And like that, I free fall into a spiral tunnel, lined with my blood-red rage.

“I want space,” he said to me. Space. What the fuck does that mean? He has space. It’s called ‘air.’ Sheesh… Continue reading →