Who Even Knows

“I will not beg you for your time or try to convince you to choose me, the world is too big and I have too much to offer.”

And if you’d see me

I don't want any part of me to be immortalized

i fear that

I've been dying a lot inside lately, dressing down my self-confidence piece by piece in my mental confrence of emotions. At this point, I don't need someone to have a toxic relationship with because I'm in a toxic relationship with myself.

My whole life is made up of: "I'm sorry". I feel like I have to apologize to people, to things, to life itself. It's like, "I'm sorry to be here". I don't want to disturb anyone.

I am like the pomegranate tree, but all my branches have been cut, broken, and buried with the dead. My heart has become a shriveled pomegranate beating with death and falling every second into a bottomless pit. But no one knows. No one. The pomegranate alone knows.

George, at Fred’s funeral: Can I just have a moment please?