Every morning in my bed I experience 100 lifetimes, become enlightened several times over, climb peaks and descend into valleys, lose all hope and regain it, and devise a breakfast.
The only sound in my head
Was a dying cricket in a jar. Do you know how it sounds?
Was a dying cricket in a jar. Do you know how it sounds?
I was on a bus with a girl that kept giving me the feeling of pretty french girl smoking cigs in peace in her silk dress on the balcony of her apartment
they say the more you recall a memory
the less real it becomes
so I sit here,
and remember you back to kindness
the less real it becomes
so I sit here,
and remember you back to kindness
whenever you want to talk to me, make sure about what song I'm listening to, cause my whole personality will change per every song i listen.
"your life's a reflection of your choices" nah uh there's no way this shit is the reflection of my choices cause I don't get high on happiness
I wonder if there is a way out, or if i'm just bound to circle the same drain a thousand times more. there is a certain dread to noticing how familiar it feels, how I've been here already a thousand times before. I thought I had gotten better and then I realise it was just the circumstances changing, not me. it's tiring. I hate how much everything gives me deja vu.
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you're falling on the floor crying thinking, "I am falling to the floor crying," but there's an element of the ridiculous to it. you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you're on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn't paint it very well."
— Richard Siken
— Richard Siken
the hypocrisy of living as a human being will never sit right with me. the constant tug between solitude and company. the desire to love so desperately and simultaneously be detached from it all. the need to be seen, but the comfort in being invisible. — this painful wanting everything and seeking nothing at all.
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