Soular.Cystem

Ahhhhhhh Im so happy!!!!!!!

*I hate a majority of my friends*

If I never share personal details of my hardships with anyone again, I eliminate the chances of telling them to someone who will take pride in using them as a tool of psychological torture. In a perfect world, such methods wouldn’t be acceptable in society, Where a human builds up enough courage to express a moment of complete mental turmoil in his life just to have it stored as an axe, or rather salt for wounds that were only beginning to scar. But we live in a world with a lot of really, really twisted people.

Fuck Definitely bed time

Steve Apologized.

"There isn't mushroom here for a fungi like you" Aka What it felt like to see Tame Impala live after taking mushrooms.

“Hello, you.” I say that as though I’ve met him before But I have a hard time recognizing him. I’ve seen him; In fact I often do. Everyday. And yet it’s hard to make a conclusion on who this person is. He seems to change every time. There’s always something about him I seem to misinterpret, Yet he’s the only person I could comfortably look directly in the eyes for an extended time. These days he doesn’t look too content with himself. Maybe it’s all in his head. Unfortunately I can’t tell just by looking into this mirror, And no matter what I do, I can’t get him to look pleased. “You look like shit.” Water stops. Lights switch off. Door shuts. Relief.

She leaned her head against the side of my chest, Covering my face with her thick blond blanket. And right as I thought I was falling in love again For the first time in what seemed to be an eternity filled with sorrow and obsession, I found myself, once again, Sorrowful and obsessed.

I can’t be left alone anymore. I have a tendency to feel powerful distress at night. I repeat the worst times of my life in my head. I repeat the biggest mistakes I’ve made in my past. The ones whose personal causes I’ve worked so hard to successfully eliminate from myself; Those that were not supposed to be there in the first place. When she’s around, I seem to forget I ever had that tendency. When she’s not, I forget what it’s like to feel collected. And yet it seemed so right to be alone before I met her. I wish she didn’t fall asleep so early.

There is no pride In being self-contained. I know. I was there, Contained in myself.

This is definitely a new hobby.

My favorite place with my favorite "punk kid" lol.

My first graffiti sucked.

It has gotten to the point in our society Where one can’t simply say: “I am not a piece of shit”