I have a script that gives off the exact same personification of feeling like a washed up tedium of what was Brisbane scene.

I tried to die lying on a deck chair in someone’s lawn. Not in a grandiose way, I just craved the death of something I loved dearly; myself. 

I’ve been told to surround myself with people who lift me higher, but all I managed is to surround myself with people who get me high. 

I’m telling you about myself wanting to evanesce every connection I’ve made, and you’re calling me a galaxy girl.

I think I’m just an experience. A smudged ideal of juvenescence. 

There’s something deeply profound about Australian garage bands who speak about substance abuse and disillusionment, something that’s gluing my ass to this deckchair. 

… without sounding like a cliche monologue

Oh John B!!! I can only imagine a yaoi fanfic between you and Mr Thompson, what a great career yours is. Thank you for demonstrating something real, something communally felt. Dopeland was as Gonzo and as great as it needed to be. This also! ❤️‍🔥👸