Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things.
no one knows how to tell other people that they’re exhausted.
i’d like to believe that people are essentially (and substantially) good.
the myth is that i can only write about you, and not anything else.
when i think about where i’m coming from i fall into a deep dark abyss with no end in sight.
a flicker in your eyes that tells everyone in the room that i am more than just.
keep going when you’re on a high…
i wouldn’t know what to do without.
i guess yours is the worst kind.
i wish they sell dignity at the stores, i’m definitely buying.
someday i will have the words to do you justice.
i am more sad of how people treated me than of what happened to me. let that sink in.
someday you’ll fix you and it’ll be okay.
sometimes i didn’t realise i was loved.
i dreamed you left me for a crusade. i was left behind a flooding. i was drowning.
when i think about people who look down on me, thinking of you becomes profound.