Paradox.

pioneering something called "gritted teeth optimism" where everything is gonna turn out okay even if i have to bite and claw and gnash my way through it

my problem is that i want a kiss after a kiss after a kiss after a kiss

gonna be real with you even when i’m absolutely fighting for my life i still return the cart or basket at the store. because i’m just a sicko i guess

One day you think: I want to die. And then you think, very quietly, actually I want a coffee. I want a nap. A sandwich. A book. And I want to die turns day by day into I want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friends, I want to sit in the sun. I want a cleaner room, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else, I want to live.