I dont care about certain things anymore.
Am I growing up?
Maybe I'm just closing off.
When a person is dying the deemed less important organs shut down first. Last being heart and lungs, our heart strings singing their parting song.
Tell me, what is worse, unexpected tragedy or seeing the cliff and marching toward it anyways. Pretending I have a relation to our dear Icarus. I walk towards the pit, leaving a trail of feathers and candle wax...
I do want to come out of this.
I can come out of this.
Happiness is achievable-- but not if I keep pulling back.
I want nothing to do with anyone. I dont even want anyone to know my real name.
To be seen and discarded but yet worshipped.
But all I have is this grave indifference.
I refuse to bury myself.
Oh holy sighs! God is out there somewhere, and she’s waiting for me to come home.
I think im done.
Im done giving parts of me away,
Even the small things.
I dont want anyone to know me well enough to predict me. Or to hurt me.
Im not scared of a car crash, or physical pain. Its when someone suddenly wakes up one morning and decides you aren’t worth their time anymore.
But yet im falling in love a little bit each day. Just watching the small things people do when they think nobody is watching.
Im falling in love with being alone, to just not be seen and only interact if I want.
To keep my madness to myself.
Darling, your looks could ****.
Yet, your laugh is a smile vocalized, contagious. Such a story behind those bright eyes. Possibly a missing piece of my heart?
You felt so familiar, I felt truly found when we met.
You woke up a warmth in my heart that I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Did our souls mingle in a past life?
Maybe we’ve done this before, in a different plane. Maybe this is the timeline it works out.
It’s all just a hopeless jumble of romanticism thats been filling my heart. Who doesn’t want a story thats fit for a movie?
baby, it's easy being cold.
cant feel love
I hear your cries,
These feathers fill my throat and come out in plumes
How did my hands get covered in wax?
I'm trapped on this isle of heartache.
I keep flying out this window
I see my make shift wings melt and I plunge into the sea.
I keep waking up back here in this dark tower.
I just cant seem to fly or die.
flipping through my journal and found this from January
Im so petrified of being happy
Like theres this impending doom that if im happy that immediately the universe will punish me. If I just run before I feel something then it cant get ruined.
Maybe my view of being happy has been tainted. Was I taught that happiness is to be associated with sin? That being happy is to be ******?