the worst sadness i’ve ever felt was grieving you while you were still very much alive.
as the dust settles, all i see is a mutilated version of who i used to be.
i was a precocious child. it’s a curse.
i take a deep breath in the mirror and think about how different i am now.
i believe i was a brilliant poet lifetimes ago. but now the words fall from my lips all wrong.
what would’ve happend, if i didn’t walk into that bar? if i didn’t see your face? if you didn’t steal glances from across the room all night? if you didn’t walk up to me with your crooked smirk? if you didnt leave to get a rose from the convenience store 3 blocks down? if you didn’t ruin my life?
i would fight for centuries to get my old self back.
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.
i am too full of life for this town. far too ambitious and far too wise. my dreams can’t materialize here.
california’s burning down but all people care about is putting videos of the flames over trending audio for a couple bucks.
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.