It feels so close to home I don’t care about the red flush starting at my knuckles. It makes its way to my fingertips pressed against his arm. I ignore it and pull him closer because I couldn’t give a crap about the burning if it means I can hold him. I’m holding him and he used to be afraid but he isn’t anymore and I’m holding him and he’s leaning on me and it’s a pressure that would make me dizzy but now it makes me feel steady. It’s stable. I can’t hide my smile when I roll up my sleeves in an attempt to cool down.

The room is warm and dark and the stupid ******* crane lights don’t bother me anymore even though I still see them through the blinds. Cause when I feel a warm hand in mine and hear the music and close my eyes, it feels like home. And this time it belongs all to me.

I didn’t notice it coming closer until it was dark and there was no sign of stars. It’s suffocating. I feel my chest tighten and no matter how hard I try I can’t loosen it. I think I’m dying but I also think I might not care as much as I used to. It feels like a bad sign. I haven’t floated like this since last time around and it feels like a trend. I tried to break it but maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Or maybe I only tried to stop it because I knew it was coming. Like some ****** foreshadowing that you identify the first watch through but choose to ignore anyways for suspension of disbelief. I want to see the stars. Why can’t I see the stars. Where are they?

I sometimes forget nobody knows me at all. I don’t even know me like I used to, but I choose to ignore it. Suspension of disbelief. I can’t blame anyone but myself. Maybe I should talk more or maybe I should shut up for the rest of my life and rot like my body so desperately wants me to. I could be the stars if I tried. Or maybe if I stopped trying. Maybe if I let go I would float away into the sky and take their place.

Your love letter came in the mail and I read it and I felt nothing and when I typed up my response and put hearts at the end, I still felt nothing. You’ve gouged out my eyes but I haven’t left because really it wasn’t that bad and you didn’t mean it and it wasn’t your fault and it was out of your control and every second you made me feel less than human was my fault in the end. I tell you I love you at night and that I dream of kissing you but I don’t and we’ll leave it at that.

False gods have to ask to be worshipped,
You never had to.
Maybe it’s proof or maybe you were asking in the way you cried,
Gentle and feminine even at your lowest.
You’ll say you never wanted the offerings but isn’t acceptance a kind of encouragement?
I knelt before you and prayed that I’d find the strength to put my hands around your throat and finally end it but I never found the strength.
I wanted to love you, I swear I did, but the harder I tried the louder I cheered for your undoing.
When it came I wasn’t ready.
I knew my idols were false but I wasn’t ready for the fire.
Now I make my idols my friends, for if they weren’t, I’d have them dead.

I try not to think about the ways I lost myself in high school, but it all comes back when I look at the way the paint peels in my bathroom

I sat across from my social working pretending to be a therapist and she told me that she’d never seen anyone be so logical about their anxieties
I didn’t know if that was supposed to be a compliment or what but I nodded because that’s what I’m supposed to do.

An hour wasted in the CVS shampoo aisle, staring at bottles of conditioner and thinking about which would make me break out in hives (No, I don’t have any allergies).
It took me a month before I used it, and even then, I thought I couldn't breathe

Peeling.. peeling... my fingers dug at every imperfection on my face. I got worked up into red hot panic, fingers burning the same red

Is this what death feels like?
It’s the last thought on my mind when I wake
The first thought of a new life.
Maybe I was wrong
sometimes life feels so like death I can’t distinguish them