* POPAGANDA.

i’m not gonna be the first verse in the song about how you found yourself. i’m gonna glitter like dirt in your knuckles. i’m the wettest match, the dullest knife. i’m gonna come charging from the hills like a flood that doesn’t care about you. i’m gonna rattle in your engine. i’m gonna leave a meaningless mark.

I will sing this survival until it is no longer a haunting.

will you speak,  will you heal?

I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.

I paint my nails nice and pretty and who cares. Who gives a shit. I’m trying not to give a shit but it doesn’t fit well on me.