There’s this girl, her hair always smelled of freshly cut lilac. She had tiny hands and big eyes. I think I loved her. We were in her car, yesterday, or maybe it was last month, time has escaped me. She sat in the drivers seat, I in the passenger. Her lilac hair blowing behind her, her tiny hands delicately holding the wheel, her big eyes looked away from the road for just a moment. Just one single moment. By the time her big eyes wondered back to the road and her tiny hands frantically turned the wheel it was too late. Her lilac hair hit the dashboard along with my limp body. From then on it’s all a blur of darkness and strange sounds. Other girls come and visit me, but none of them smell like lilac. People I don’t even remember knowing come and tell me about things I can’t understand. Apparently I know someone who call’s himself Fall Out Boy and apparently this person is important to me. I grasp every thought, search every corner, and I can’t remember anything about this person. Maybe Fall Out Boy has hair like lilac. I hope Fall Out Boy has hair like lilac, or at least tiny hands.
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