i'm esther from spain but scouser at heart. i like music, books and people who have red cheeks.
Shake it off. Shake it off, whatever is clinging to you, nails like shards of glass in your back. Run away, not like a coward, but like an athlete. Beat your record for the longest distance before breaking a sweat. I bet you’ll be out front of her house when you first feel it on your forehead. Keep running, even though you’re drenched in the smell of her hair and the sound of her voice while she holds your shaking body. Shake it off, the rust, the dew. You do not belong anywhere that forgets your name this easily. She is not your hometown, she is not where you learned your first words. Do not let her become a place you go to mourn and remember. Run past her name in the mouths of others. Don’t think about who she’s singing Patsy Cline to as they fall asleep with her hands on them. Don’t think about her red lipstick leaving marks all over him like a wine glass. You have gone through the belly of the beast. You have mistaken her warmth for love and are still in one piece. Not many people are so lucky, so run. If leaving means surviving, then this is the bravest thing you will ever do.
"I think I’ve been writing about you."