hanging in there

spinning in circle, like an idiot. cliffhanger endings, and the whistling wind. 

a world on fire, decked out with picture-perfect sunsets, and cheap pop music. and i hate myself, but at least i look good while doing it. and maybe my skin is made of plastic. maybe my bones are cheap knockoffs about to shatter. but let’s face up to the music: does it really even matter?

and i can’t remember anymore. why i ever wanted to get better.

so let my brain rot away. let my hands wither away into the sands of time and my bones crumble into the ground.

because the truth is… no one’s gonna stop you now.

It’s been a really busy, hard two weeks, and I feel like that’s really been taking a toll on my mental health. I mean, I was up until 2am last night trying to get out content on a deadline. It’s probably going to get easier in a couple days–I just have a lot of different ongoing projects right now, all reaching their peak at the same time, and it’s been really hard to handle. So I guess that place of just feeling like my brain is overflowing with stress, like I’m being ripped apart by all the things I need to be doing, that heavy exhaustion even caffeine can’t fix is kind of where this poem came from. How have you all been doing? How were your weekends? I hope you’re all doing okay.

Lots of love,



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