frey's diary

I think of you every moon, perhaps till the end of rhyme. Or as they say, till the end of time.

I've never been good at remembering names. But it will take me a while to forget yours.

You ask me to look at the moon, not knowing if I’m looking alone or if you’re hoping I’ll see you there too.

How vulnerable to be tender, to be fragile for someone. To let them see you, without the mask of performance. To let them into a part of you, a part you have not even explored. Handing them the gun and just trusting they will not pull the trigger. So there in the silence, it will forever exist, the gun, your love, and your belief. Every day you will wait, wait until they pull the gun. Maybe they will. Perhaps they won't.

didnt go well. i studied so hard. why am i just fucking stupid????

I sneer at publicly shown affection. A childish pursuit of a fleeting relationship. But mother, I will never admit it. I never will. But if death embraces me just a little too tenderly, I fear I might melt into its arms.

i finally did a maths chapter. i have another i need to do. i feel like im falling behind. gifted kid? i was just lucky. i feel exhausted, and jealous, so so envious. why is it so easy for him?