even if i lived in ur skin, it still wouldn’t be enough.

if i could, i would grab a shovel, dig a hole inside your neck, crawl between your vocal chords, and wrap myself around them until each whisper vibrates through my bones. i'm afraid I'll miss you even then, that you will feel distant even from the inside.

I just wanna be called "stupid" in a British accent. Is that too much to ask??

In another universe she actually started doing better instead of always saying 'I was gonna'

I can’t even fix myself and y’all are out there fixing other people?

I genuinely don't remember what happened in the last couple of hours if someone doesnt drop a hint

It was one of those days where my to-do list resembled a Stephen King novel, and my motivation had apparently eloped with a circus clown to Vegas. My brain was essentially a browser with 75 tabs open, each one playing a different commercial for something I didn't need.

pretty sure she was leaving a permanent dent in the sofa, a testament to the sheer force of her procrastination.

Just a girl who is becoming one with the fabric, growing buttons, and a decorative floral pattern.

When will you stop reaching for everything just to return empty-handed ?

I dissolve into fits of laughter whenever I hear the whispers of heartbreak

Reading that one confession on tele channel be like:

I joined for the drama, honestly

is anyone else feeling stuck and waiting for something that will never come in order to start living or is it just me?

Buying a book isn't enough. I need to actually read 'em

There is no in-between jemmy it's either I'm going insane or I'm romanticizing my life

I wonder how many things you think about before you get to me, I wonder how many things you wanna do before you think I'm in between

Snoopy coded

I'm addicted to the way my heart skips beats and aches terribly pumping pain in my system and nostalgia rushing around every time I enjoying my own malencholy

You know that joke, "Maybe if I love my depression, it'll leave me too"?

I relate to that in the sense that whenever I talk about something—whether it’s a plan, something I got, or just something in motion—it somehow goes wrong or gets delayed.

It’s like a superpower that only works when I don’t realize it. I’m not one to believe in superstition, but it's happened enough times to make me wonder. Call it the evil eye or whatever.