Oct 2019
I can want to call you but not dial it now, which is progress, but it helps when I remember how much I ******* hate you!
I told somebody recently that I always look back on times of growth with a fondness, with a spotlight, even though during them I can only feel the sting.
I want everybody to know to not take anything I say seriously because I don't trust anything I create and that even includes sentences, but whenever I grow up I will demand to be treated as such. I'm not used to how it feels to have an impulse that I don't act on-
I do the same thing each weekend, some of my friends find that to be depressing but I like to think its means we're in a sitcom. It's our own certain patterns and routines and I'm easily able to romanticize it, I think it's sweet, others think it's stationary.
I ran into my ex tonight, the one who I believe has a very low IQ.
I could cry if I wanted to, but I'm not sad. I want to mourn each version of myself that I've left somewhere else (including the one who was with that ex) and I'm absolutely terrified of the ones that I still have to deal with, I see glimpses of them each time I get a new tattoo.
I nearly cried because a song came on that made me think I wanted you back, this happens every so often and I have yet to figure out yet if it's real. Sometimes I think the fact that I get back there (or here, more or less, because I did start to cry) has to mean something, that maybe I did actually love you in a way I haven't ever before or maybe might not ever again, but other times I blame it on my mental health or menstrual cycle or the fact that I'm 22 or maybe even sleep deprivation or my own self destruction patterns or possibly personal insecurities or A literal human need to connect in a way that I'm also simultaneously avoiding.
I like her. I do like her. I just like ME more (and you, but thats only because you match my level of cynical and I find that pleasing because everybody is either morbid or positive these days), and that's new, because I still barely like myself! I usually forget to look at myself in the mirror for days in a row. I've seen my reflection so many times in the past week. I might be getting taller.
I use too many commas and not enough periods or maybe even too many of both but I want to write without worrying who is reading! I want to write in the way that I believe I could, never ending sentences that mean something and hit people in the chest the way I want to be ******* slapped, ******* beat down to my core, you know? I saw my ex who threw me down stairs tonight, it's that one, the really really stupid one, not sure if you remember. She's gained weight since the last time I saw her and I asked if she was sober within 60 seconds of speaking to her, I've gained inches and gotten like 25 tattoos,
I can't wait to be happy.
I only hate you because you don't love me too.
I told somebody recently that I always look back on times of growth with a fondness, with a spotlight, even though during them I can only feel the sting.
I want everybody to know to not take anything I say seriously because I don't trust anything I create and that even includes sentences, but whenever I grow up I will demand to be treated as such. I'm not used to how it feels to have an impulse that I don't act on-
I do the same thing each weekend, some of my friends find that to be depressing but I like to think its means we're in a sitcom. It's our own certain patterns and routines and I'm easily able to romanticize it, I think it's sweet, others think it's stationary.
I ran into my ex tonight, the one who I believe has a very low IQ.
I could cry if I wanted to, but I'm not sad. I want to mourn each version of myself that I've left somewhere else (including the one who was with that ex) and I'm absolutely terrified of the ones that I still have to deal with, I see glimpses of them each time I get a new tattoo.
I nearly cried because a song came on that made me think I wanted you back, this happens every so often and I have yet to figure out yet if it's real. Sometimes I think the fact that I get back there (or here, more or less, because I did start to cry) has to mean something, that maybe I did actually love you in a way I haven't ever before or maybe might not ever again, but other times I blame it on my mental health or menstrual cycle or the fact that I'm 22 or maybe even sleep deprivation or my own self destruction patterns or possibly personal insecurities or A literal human need to connect in a way that I'm also simultaneously avoiding.
I like her. I do like her. I just like ME more (and you, but thats only because you match my level of cynical and I find that pleasing because everybody is either morbid or positive these days), and that's new, because I still barely like myself! I usually forget to look at myself in the mirror for days in a row. I've seen my reflection so many times in the past week. I might be getting taller.
I use too many commas and not enough periods or maybe even too many of both but I want to write without worrying who is reading! I want to write in the way that I believe I could, never ending sentences that mean something and hit people in the chest the way I want to be ******* slapped, ******* beat down to my core, you know? I saw my ex who threw me down stairs tonight, it's that one, the really really stupid one, not sure if you remember. She's gained weight since the last time I saw her and I asked if she was sober within 60 seconds of speaking to her, I've gained inches and gotten like 25 tattoos,
I can't wait to be happy.
I only hate you because you don't love me too.
