cyclical.
I can't show weakness to anyone.
My vulnerability must be outspoken and directed at a something slightly similar, but adjacent to the source
I hate them, all of them that have known him without me. I detest them, I envy them, I want to know what it feels like to be them.
It's fucked up.
I've never been so disoriented- my mind constantly jumping from one thing to the next
there is no actual relaxation in my life because I deprave myself with purpose
I can't shut down because I'm scared it'll be too hard to start all over again.
Is it the fear or the stubbornness that stimulates me? I don't know
... but it's something. something that is fed up with stagnancy and complacency; with the same words and phrases in all the same order
this tension has been building, perpetually allowing short intervals of release, but nonetheless steadily mounting
at this point, I have no idea where it's coming from.
could it be my unsure future? my unfulfilled desires? my constant set backs?
the clarity which is lacking, the self that is incomplete
No one will ever know me again, because I am no longer "me" but something else that has been collected from the pieces.
ayeaye
My vulnerability must be outspoken and directed at a something slightly similar, but adjacent to the source
I hate them, all of them that have known him without me. I detest them, I envy them, I want to know what it feels like to be them.
It's fucked up.
I've never been so disoriented- my mind constantly jumping from one thing to the next
there is no actual relaxation in my life because I deprave myself with purpose
I can't shut down because I'm scared it'll be too hard to start all over again.
Is it the fear or the stubbornness that stimulates me? I don't know
... but it's something. something that is fed up with stagnancy and complacency; with the same words and phrases in all the same order
this tension has been building, perpetually allowing short intervals of release, but nonetheless steadily mounting
at this point, I have no idea where it's coming from.
could it be my unsure future? my unfulfilled desires? my constant set backs?
the clarity which is lacking, the self that is incomplete
No one will ever know me again, because I am no longer "me" but something else that has been collected from the pieces.
ayeaye