lowkey struggling, lowkey doin fine, lowkey want love, lowkey want distance, lowkey stressing, lowkey at peace, lowkey got it figured out, lowkey lost, lowkey dont understand what i want myself (highkey confused)
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i swear im fun and chill there’s just a deep ache in me that i truly believe is never going to go away
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and unfortunately, yes. i will sit here by myself, act like i don't need anyone and fight every single problem by myself
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when edgar allan poe said “i was never really insane,except on occasions where my heart was touched”
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Will I ever be able to capture intricate moments between my clasped fingers or am I prone to a lifelong race of chasing after trains passing? How am I supposed to leave when the smallest things bring me to my knees? How am I supposed to take my heart out of its cage and throw it into another prison? The questions I ask are never enough to satisfy the famished soul, neither are they good to keep.. forever feels like betting on the losing horses and love seems like the dust that makes my eyes water as chaos ensues. They keep telling me what's mine will find its way back to me but what if I've been erased from the map, what if my flesh and bones are just an illusion of what the passerby call a girl; the in-between, the semi-conscious, the forever interrupted. What if I've already dug my grave, one slip and I'll spend the rest of days underground? I love you and why should I be afraid to say it? I want to combust into colors you want to paint me as, why should that be a problem? But I'm already burnt as the companion candle of a grieving woman, I'm already reaching the bottom of the river with a set of limbs that want to run to you but drowning comes first
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time has stopped to wrap its fingers around my palm. what am i to do, if not to kiss them? Yes, their was an ache to bite and tear ita fragile flesh, but I'm toothless as long as I remember
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