you're a stranger in a myth where there is no official beginning or ending and i'm not worth your spark in my darkness nor every explosion you leave for me. now im stowed in all that is left of you when it seems this cruel world doesn't need me and i can't recall what inviting lies you've said when embers on my skin singe deep.
If someone would ask me if I would rather be shot or have my heart broken. I would say “shoot me”because i would rather die than have my heart broken. having your heart break into the smallest pieces once, is enough for me. They say time heals your wounds so tell me why then doesnt mine heal?
i never bought the whole dark academia thing. sure, ****** and drugs and *** are torrid and dark when you're from a rich family, when you've never woken up to the news of your childhood best friend being shot to death, when you haven't seen your family and friends fall into the seductive cesspool of opioid addiction, when half of your class was pregnant by the time senior year rolled around. the academic upper class thinks what working class kids go through is sexier when the backdrop of the overdose is chandeliers and silk, instead of a small town parking lot at 3am. my aesthetic reality of academia is scholarships, it's leather jackets and nicotine addictions it's having the only fifteen-year-old car in the campus parking lot and hoping to find a plug before the first week of classes. it's not sleeping between work and class and partying. it's being the only one whose dad isn't buddies with the guy giving me an internship. it's lonely. it's the crippling loneliness of not understanding upper class social cues, it's reading crime and punishment in the slivers of time between work and work and class and more work and emphasizing with raskalnikov so much it makes your teeth ache. it's coughing up blood. it's having health insurance for the first time in college and still not using it. it's drowning, it's fighting, it's violent and heroic and painful and never knowing if you'll actually make it.
Oh what it takes to be extreme! To be euphoric one day And then be wistfully tragic the other. To be a hopeless romantic When the moon rises ; And then to believe in nothing at all At the golden dawn . To love you with every pound of my flesh And then feel nothing with your soul after