I love you.

The funny thing is I know this is not me, but I do not know how I really am.

You promised and did not fulfill. You want me to trust you?

GO FUCK HIM, OR WHOEVER, FOR ALL I CARE.

I would write a million words, only you will care. My love.

Take a nap and disappear.

Haven’t you wish that, you liar?

I just.
Just simply.
Cannot.
Project.
What I.
Feel.

Love shouldnt be a verb.

Or at least it should be one that

can only be conjugated in first person

plural.

-Cote 2013

Photographs are windows to past dimensions.

Am I the only one that sees life as pictures? Life is kind of an odd scrapbook.

No one is who they really are,
So why should I be who I really am?

Our kisses want to be real.

Not Christmas Eve,
But there are the lights,
Four-walled claustrophobia,
My world in my back,
You don’t understand but,
I mean, this is my life,
Odd thoughts, everyone odd,
Odd as fuck.

I’m afraid you’ll see and judge.
‘Cause I can’t explain,
You’ll just have to guess.

Cote (March 2013)

I have a secret that isn’t really a secret, I just hide it from you.

Is this love? I just can’t tell apart.