Twist.

Eight beep tones and a dial tone.

I hear your voice, but I can't say a thing. I'm choking up, you probably know it, and holding back the wheezes. You don't say anything nice, but it doesn't matter. I just listen to your voice and in my mind, twist it into words that I wanna hear. Until the things you say begin to hurt unbearably, I put down. Sick game, I know.

I should get bathing so I can desgin the program booklet and concert tickets I volunteered to design, instead of my pile of homework. Well, before that I should also get Adobe Photoshop installed too and download brushes. That'll probably take the entire night. Didn't even know that I had this project going, did you, baby? I didn't get to tell.

Now, off I go. A favour for a band that barely knows I exist.