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Impulsive Jan 2021
I make you little knick knacks
and find trinkets to gift you
and I wonder when you’ll next ask to see me
i am wondering whether this is what love is.
if that is the case,
Impulsive Aug 2020
Most of the time, I get scared of who I am as a person.
       I am mean and I am judgy,
and I often find myself thinking- "don't be mean and judgy"
I feel like others may see me as hateful and awful to be around.

But then I remember that other people see me how I want them to see me.
They don't see me as a terrible person unless I am terrible to them.

Sometimes I am terrible to people, but in all honesty, it's better than faking it.
Being mean is okay, it makes me a Person.
Just like him, her, they, you.
         We are all mean and judgy Persons.
I don't seem to have a problem with it anymore.
Another one because it came to mind
Impulsive Aug 2020
I am, most certainly, bored.
I do not know where to go from here.
It's a little stressful, but I feel as if the majority of me really just doesn't care where I take this, to be completely honest. I am just
here, I suppose.

This is very much just for fun, but I guess it is kinda letting me let off some steam.
Impulsive Aug 2020
I fall back into depressive habits when I can't control my hair.
I have absolutely no clue why, but something about my happiness is linked directly to my hair
like Sampson.
It's where my power comes from.

            Anywhere, here is a different time for me to work through.

I have what I need I just have to figure it out. It's not that any of this is relevant to any of you,
but maybe it is. I just wanted to let you know.
Just in case
Impulsive Apr 2020
It has been a long time.
I would call you an old friend, but I cannot tell if you brought me comfort or pain.
Much has changed.
I am no longer as careless. No longer as sweet.
Time has eradicated such naive pleasantries.
However, I’m still stuck with the same deep-rooted issues.
I seek *** to replace intimacy. I seek substances to fill voids others dug.
I cannot tell if others dug the voids or if I did, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The holes are still there.
I hop along, one person from the next. One thing to the next.
But I never seem to find myself happy.
I am stuck back here writing, searching for something that I never found.
I have grown and I have changed
but my roots remain the same.
Impulsive May 2019
I wish that I could love you like I used to.
I wish I could go back to the time
where we laughed together
and every smile was genuine.
I wish that you weren’t a fool and that I wasn’t a fool and that neither one of us got hurt in the end of this all
but here I am
and there you are.
Some things are meant to change.
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