I want to doodle forevers with you, even if they’re still messy and blunt and unclear.
They say one thing but can never back up their words with actions.
Old habits, toxic friends, aimless jobs, broken dreams. None are meant to live.
I wanted to believe you’re art, but real art is pure and raw; isn’t it?
For the last three days, every single morning I woke up with a visceral feeling flooding through my body as my chest wrapped itself around my heart suffocating what you have left of it.
You can now clearly see how miserable an adult’s life is. When you’re too lost to understand who you are and what you want. When you try to fit in while giving away your own individuality.
In an overpopulated planet, our universe often revolves around one soul.
I miss you in pieces, in parts. I miss you in things around me.
You look into the mirror, and you can already track the extra inches of fat hanging on the sides of your hips.
Loving a damaged person is absorbing their poison and hoping it ends before you’ll lie dead on the ground. It’s saving someone while you’re losing yourself in the process.