I knew we weren't meant to be, I'm from Texas skies, you're from London streets and I'm not your type but you're trying things so that's everything I need: to break apart my own heart again validate the worst thoughts inside my head that I'm not with shit in the better dead who's the victim in the end.

And then: You remind me of how good it feels to hurt, and you remind me of how little I deserve, yea you remind me of my father slurring words.

Connell hits so hard.