in march, time goes at a steady pace, but tomorrow it will be october and i will have not spoken to you since february and i will forget that i have ever spoken to you.
i would much rather stay inside to do my skincare than go out and party all night. why does that make me a villain?
i think the prophecy is wrong. there is no way the universe would torture me this humorously.
i believe i was a brilliant poet lifetimes ago. but now the words fall from my lips all wrong.
thank you mother, for uprooting my life for your own convenience.
two years ago i worshipped the man i thought you were. thank god i am off my knees now.
i yell at my mother with her same ruthlessness and out-argue my father with his same logic.
i will mourn this november for the rest of my life. this november i fell out of love.
they can keep their guys, because him. he’s mine.
someone asked me today what made me feel the most alive. and through tears i told them it was you.