cliché

Restless thoughts buzz like a radio with poor reception, but the heart still finds its rhythm. Inside, it's chaos; outside, neon lights and the promise that you can escape anywhere, whether to Vegas or just into the night. This confession is not about quiet love, but about a risky game: ‘let's try, even if everything falls apart tomorrow.’ You seem to understand that it might be easier alone, but how can you resist when someone calls you to share the chaos and turn it into a home?