i look forward to the darkness and the quiet. even though i am scared of it, that is the only time i feel something.
do you think he’ll fall for frank sinatra at full volume and being wine drunk by 10am?
i think the prophecy is wrong. there is no way the universe would torture me this humorously.
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.
heaven is over now. the party got shut down. the amphitheater is empty. the bars deserted. usually so full of life but now; deathly silent. but they’re waiting.
is my smudged mascara, black mini skirt, bruised knees, red eyes, hungover state aesthetic enough for you?
how tragic it is, that my own brain poisons itself.
i barely survived being everything but your lover.
i always end up falling out of love when i finally realize it was only lust.
my brothers are not my blood, but they are mine. we have been through tragedy and triumph together. they have been my shoulder to cry on, and i have wiped away many of their tears myself. my soul will always be tied with theirs.