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.
peace seems so far away now. like it didn’t happen this lifetime but a thousand years ago.
despite how hard i’ve wished and prayed you weren’t the one. you are. and i know i can never love you how you want me to.
you must’ve been mine for lifetimes. i must’ve taught you how to read, or ride a bike, or cook, or run. we must’ve met on the streets of ancient rome, or in passing jericho, or selling you a car in london, or teaching you to fight in sparta, or closing your tomb in egypt. i must’ve been your person every single lifetime.
i’m suffering. sinking into the furthest depths of misery. and yet it feels holy.
if you hurt me, i’ll walk away as easy as i walked in.
i yearn for destruction of myself.
i yell at my mother with her same ruthlessness and out-argue my father with his same logic.
i read somewhere, that there is a day in the year that is always a catalyst. a day where you hit rock bottom for years on end. mine is november 9th.