wish fulfillment 2

i run my hands along my throat, and wish that i could just tear this whole thing to shreds, you know? because there is no excuse, there is no repenting for this. and with every passing second, i feel the end of time grow near.

so let shame surround me on all sides in a thick, toxic smoke. this wasn’t how i imagined things would turn out, but i’m here now, you know? so fuck it all. let the timer go off, and let the world go to shit. we gave it our all, didn’t we? but there’s nothing we can do to fix this.

but if you wanted to come with me, there’s still time to run.

we could live in the forest, we could shatter our dreams, and burn out our minds until there’s nothing left but a barren, empty chest and a wide-open sky. and maybe then, we’d sleep easy, for once in our fucking lives.

we could wave away these problems with the blink of an eye, until the lavender countryside lulls me off to sleep, and buries me with old birthday cards, vendettas, and notes-to-self. god, it’d be perfect.

So, I haven’t written one of these little, like, mini paragraph thingies below poems in a while, this is so weird! Hopefully you are happy to see them back, but most likely, you do not care because this is a small and relatively inconsequential thing.

Anyway–I’ve been thinking about myself, and what makes me happy, and what I want in life a lot of late, and very slowly, gradually giving myself permission to feel like a kid, and not feel guilty about it which is kind of a new concept to me.

I’ve been listening to a lot of music from when I was younger, and spending lots of time writing (and, like, genuinely enjoying it, and having a good time just hanging out with myself) and going on long walks, exploring after school and finding all sorts of weird, cool things, and last night I made myself this chocolate mug cake just for fun, which was amazing, the recipe is here and you need to try it stat, it’s so good! (Shoutout to my friend for sending it to me, you’re the best!)

I always assumed that letting myself be happy would mean just giving up on the things I genuinely do want to do, like going to work, or making things I’m proud of, but it’s not, which is a very good revelation to have, and for some reason one it took my entire life to think of. I don’t know, not spending every waking hour at work is a foreign feeling to me, but a good one. I don’t know where I’m going, or what’s happening, but I think that can be good, and exciting too, not just terrifying and horrible like I always thought it was.

Lots of love,


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