I’m not normal about anything i like, why would i be, it’s not fun that way.

Between me being uncomfortable under my own skin or other people who I absolutely don’t know? I choose them to be uncomfortable.

this wound needs more salt

Actually I don't want to be a star or smth like that when I die. I want to be a black hole. Is it too much to ask?

I love artists, i think i said that before but I'm sooooo jealous of their talent .drawing ,sketching and making art it's like a heavenly thing
WDYM U CAN JUST GIVE LIFE TO WHAT'S IN YOUR MIND

Im the way im bcuz i discovered the wonders of novels at the ripe age of 9

Every rainy girl needs her " do you wanna walk under the rain? " type of guy

currently missing things that I've literally never experienced

I hate it when life be too good.
Like bitch ik you planning something devious.

i'm like a stack of unread books

*Starts waving hand in front of face*

Forehead kiss... it's like my daily dose of love... but where IS IT? Maybe it's under the rugs.or it may have eloped with the remote.

*squints at wall* Or maybe... maybe I'm the forehead kiss!

*Giggles uncontrollably*

My brain is a squirrel on espresso. It's got a to-do list that just says "CHECK," and it's taking its job very seriously. We're talking a full-blown audit of reality. I check once. Nope, still there (or not there, depending on what I'm checking for, naturally). Double check! Maybe I blinked. Triple check! My vision could be blurry! Quadruple check! Okay, now I'm questioning the very fabric of spacetime. And just for kicks, let's add a couple of bonus checks because, y'know, insurance. Am I hallucinating? Possibly!
Cuz i know for sure I won't be dumped,disposed,thrown out,and discarded in this very day forced to INTERACT WITH FELLO MORTALBEINGS at this early hour.

me waking up with absolutely no memory of anything material-adjacent because id rather fail than not have seven hours of sleep

autopilot once again

Waiting is my superpower... if my superpower was making inanimate objects really, really interesting. Like, I can spend a solid 15 minutes contemplating the architectural marvel that is a single ceiling tile in the DMV. The way the fluorescent light dances across its slightly-stained surface? Poetry in motion. I bet Shakespeare never had to wait in line for hours just to renew his chariot registration. If he had, we'd probably have sonnets dedicated to the existential dread of a faded number being called before yours. So yeah, waiting. I'm practically a zen master of forced patience, and my reward is a government-issued piece of paper and the distinct feeling that a small piece of my soul just withered away.

Today felt… different. The soundtrack to my imagined escape usually blared in my head, a glorious, cinematic score urging me onward was on mute.The familiar hum of running away, a fantasy I often indulged, simply didn’t surface. It wasn't bravery, not contentment, but something deeper settled in my bones. A certainty, beyond all logic, that my feet, no matter how far they wandered, would always, inevitably, bring me home.

Running is exhilarating, yes, but the returning… that's where the real work begins.

Side note: I have experienced the outside world now I shall return to my cave

I want to get a car just to drive it at full speed at night and crying with songs.

But I like bikes more