april 14th, 2020

and i know it’s bad for me. okay. i know none of these things are really gonna ever make me happy, and sleepwalking through life isn’t a solution for anybody.

and i fall asleep on the couch, and i think that maybe i could do this for the rest of eternity. little girl in a bubble, pushing at the edges. fever dreams and pastel colours. seven foot hedges.

and i only have so much time to live. and yet… here we go. let’s just throw it all down the drain, and forget i even tried. you know?

because i am but a finite person. or whatever you want to tell me. because i couldn’t care less, about the mess that is reality.

and i know it’s awful for me. but it tastes so sweet, and it feels like relief… and i don’t know how to stop myself anymore. and i think i’m gonna stay here, and just rest. like i never let myself before.

and who knows? maybe i could stay here forever.

I have absolutely no self control. I’ve probably discussed this topic before, but… yeah. Sometimes the worst thing is that I know when I’m doing it, I know when I need to stop–and yet, I keep doing it anyway. Something I only sort of realized yesterday, and that definitely influenced this poem in editing, is that, well, it’s mostly just a form of self-sabotage honestly. It’s not really conscious, I just don’t believe I can do this. Not deep down. I mean, I’ve had two full blown existential crises about this today.  I’m scared I can’t make this work. Because the thing is… this isn’t, like, certain. I mean, I’ve ran projections for blog traffic, but that’s not a guarantee. Maybe I just wasted… years of my life I’ll never get back on this thing. And, I mean, are those years I’ll regret? I guess the place I’m in now after all of this, where… I guess, trying to make this, even if it doesn’t work out, into something that I won’t regret. Something that makes me feel like more than just a sad, sleep-deprived zombie.

(As a side note, I may or may not be learning to play guitar, so that’s a thing. For some reason my touch starved self now will hug her guitar when she is sad, and also has started calling it Elroy, which as I write this down now realize is… really sad, but who cares, Elroy is my son and I love him.)

Anyhow, that was all just a very long-winded way of saying it is now uncomfortably close to one in the morning, and I am going to go to sleep now and try to be okay with whatever mess this post is. And I hope that that’s something you can do too. Because it’s hard, and you deserve it, and  you seem like a pretty cool person.

Lots of love,


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