Concept: we’re in the back seat of your car, holding each other like it’s our last night on earth. You’re phone is hooked up to your speakers playing our songs, while you sing them softy as you stroke my hair.
Looking back, I can’t remember the truth. I blew everything out of proportion so I could feel the hurt and betrayal and write about it in vivid detail. It was my own method of torture. My own undoing; and I enjoyed every second of it.