I just wish I could be better.
I wish I could be human. I wish I could be loved. I wish I could be the most important to someone.
a beauty that calls.
Fe wnaethon nhw achub fy mywyd heno.
Eto.
Diolch o galon.
ew, times two.
“Oh no, I hope that post isn’t about me!”
and what are you going to do if it is?
bitch, I was born on the Ides of March — literally, I’m not just saying that to create a false bond with someone I can use like a stepping stone. you think I have to play nice with you? with anyone?
here’s the upside to being nobody: nobody gives a shit about what I say, so I can spit the truth out like blood. I hope it fucking burns you.
but it’s disintegrating
keeping back the flood
There are so many worlds and so many words inside me, but getting them out is like trying to get water from the moon. I want to keep writing CRESCENDO and the opening scene of FALLOUT 8 is running through my mind as clear as a movie, not to mention AKAYOROSHI’s various pieces (and history pieces)…but the words won’t come. The brain won’t concentrate. It won’t even do me the service of hyperfocusing. It just doesn’t want to do anything.
Or it wants to do everything, all the time, all at once. Which is impossible.
…I need to visit Evergreen Taoist Temple. I remember how peaceful I felt on that school excursion. And I need, I miss, I need my city. My Brisvegas. My September city. You carved yourself into my heart, I can’t leave you — your absence sits on my soul like a suppurating ulcer.
In other news, I just accidentally stabbed myself in the thigh with a sashiko needle I dropped. Go me. 😀
[private] take these pills…or not
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chilling settling feeling
I’m not going to survive this.
trauma-tasing.
I am so, so tired of discussing past traumas. I get that I kind of have to, to get certain things working and certain services, but it’s just…so exhausting. I don’t want to think about them out of the blue anymore. It’s the emotional equivalent of being hit by a taser while getting your licence to operate one, you know? You know it’s coming, but you can’t really prepare for it despite that. And it’s really, really frickin’ painful in the moment, and so tiring afterwards.
make it hit different.
[private] for whenever I start to miss her:
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