You know those kinds of girls who look like they're made
Of honey and glass, like sticky sweet ash
And you can't get the taste off your tongue?
Burnt sugar and a little bit of rum?

And she dances in the rain with her clothes on
Drenched to the bone and never knows when she's all gone
She's the life of the party and deep down I know
That nobody flinches ( Read more... )

I feel dead inside.

I just want to get to a point in my life where this feeling goes away.

I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to feel guilty.

I feel this empty now. What happens in several years from now when my tolerance wears my patience away and I can’t take it anymore?

Also. It might be important to add the note in this recollection of life stories that we are now making our way through a pandemic. A real life one that will be in history books for our children (if I ever get to have them) for years to come.

There was a brief lockdown, lots and lots of quarantining, lots of political bullshit that divided the ( Read more... )

I just feel like I’ve settled my whole life.

So it’s not so much that I haven’t worked hard or not had the drive, I just think my default motion is to settle.

I’ve never thought of the progression of my life like this, but I’ve always just settled. If I work towards something and I don’t get it, I find a way to make myself accept it and then say, “it ( Read more... )

What a weird feeling. Birthdays change as you age. Not drastically, and not all at once.

Even for a birthday fanatic like me, somehow along the way they start to lose a little luster and shine. It feels a little more lonely with each year. Just by a fraction. And you never know how to explain it, but for some reason there’s a tiny speck that’s ( Read more... )

I don’t like the idea of making anyone around me feel like they’re less than enough in any way.

I struggle with finding the balance between being honest and empowering.

Drove home listening to Leaving Through The Window and felt at peace and happy. Almost like a good conversation with an old friend. Except that old friend was the ghost of an old me.

Also. How am I living in a world where Dylan Davis took his own life?

I just don’t understand.

Is depression something that always exists and finds a way to ooze out slowly over the years until you wake up one day and realize you’re standing in a large, sticky, puddle?

What a gutting feeling to see someone you love more than the world get to live out the exact life you dreamed of growing up into as a child.