elevensies

I am Atlas holding the weight of the world. Except that the world is made of papier-mache, and it’s one that I made. It’s filled with baubles shaped like every mistake I’ve ever known. Every puzzle left unsolved, every closed loop, every imperfection. They taunt me from above, call out to me, beg to be solved. Beg for my attention. Rustling around in there, rotating their position next to my ear.

don’t try to outsource your grief. it’s inside you it’s inside you it’s inside you it’s inside you it’s still inside you it’s inside you. let it be inside you. let it reside in you. it’s inside you. let it be. let it be what it is. let it be that you loved her. let it be that her eyes captured your soul. let it be that this is your weak point. this is your weak point. big eyes and weak joints…

nothing is ever the same

yellow brick toad