years. years have been taken off of my life today. the fear invoked in me shall linger for the rest of my days.
pure bliss is a high i never want to be sober of. i feel on top of the earth my feet have always been glued to. this must be that freedom the wanderers speak of.
i want to scream. i shall only halt when the windows rupture from their sills and the floor begins to shake. only then will i be able to go about my day.
i wish this momentary calm could find the courage to last for the entirety of my life. but the war in my brain scares it away.
if there is one thing on this earth i can depend upon. it is my uncle, who loves me more than i love my own flesh and bones.
the only wish of mine before i walk alongside death, is for the ink from my pen to sink into a single soul and take root.
i feel so loved for a mere second, then it is ripped away by fake niceties. i only wish that the prophecy could be rewritten so that a single soul is obsessed with mine.
death’s hand fits so perfectly in my palm. no wonder my mind is attacking me.
i never knew the concept of forgiveness would be so hard to grasp. but now i know that i can hold a grudge like a child. and in that melodrama i am proud.
though i am surrounded by hundreds of people each day, i feel so completely isolated from the outside world. someone bigger must’ve put me in a jar in failing effort to save me.
i feel this bone aching sadness. it lingers in my muscles and flows through my blood. if i knew bleeding would stop it, i would volunteer to bleed out.
to have gone through all of this, and to be as soft as i am, is truly a tragic delicacy. but still people perceive me as naive. i suppose they are no longer supportive of kindness.