conceding to your ‘brokenness’
bullshit. you are smarter than that. better.
don’t cut off your finger and say you can’t write.
you should not be your own confinement. we fight for freedom, don’t fight against yourself for something you already possess.
you are not as feeble as your ego. make it a reflection, not a distortion.
please love. please realize. please hope.
my world is very small.
pressing my cheek into the cool ground, imagining it could melt and i would melt and we would meld and i’d find the stability that i hover overtop of.
disconnected. bare feet and bright skin and lively eyes are removed from earth. reality is now the dream. i float in the abyss of silence.
it’s not worth it
i should do something. never speak to anyone from this life and be born again. it feels that my story is coming to an end far quicker than i used to think
maybe i could stop it
burn it before the sentence ends
by treasuring every moment
every small act of ingenuity or glimpse of splendor
i am a martyr like the roses are red
painted. a sham!