This is the THRILL

I am sitting by a fire: drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes.
"And this girl on the computer," he said about me.
OK COMPUTER is playing in one ear and Hayden in my headphones.
The four of them are playing hearts.
I am writing about them and they don't know.
They think I am writing a paper.
I was until I feel like my brain is going to explode.
Honestly if they knew I was writing of them, most likely they'd lable me a creeper.
He is interesting. The reflection of the flames are dancing in his eyes.
I saw Wrist Cutters: a Love Story two nights ago and learned something:
It only happens when you don't care.
The problem is I DO care. I always care.
Im sick of writing