to be a person

oh cruel, God. will you find what you're looking for finally and leave me alone? there is not much left to excavate in this body of mine.

i really, really loved her so, so much. it's hard for me to fathom i lost something that i did love so desperately. i just want to hold this hurt child in me, even for a while, soon you'll be displaced by these other feelings i have, but right now, you are here, child, and i am here.

i have, again, arrived at the conjecture and need to interrogate myself. there is an endless stream coming from inside of me that i don't understand. and again, i will have to write or wish that i die.

i am not this thing

i can say i am happy with what i will leave behind, i have become complete, in a state of solipsis, i have become perfect, and therefore, i cannot die.

an apostheosis had occured, something that was only accessed in their dreams. and every night that they slept, they became a god, able to shape reality into whatever they wanted to be, and as they woke up, they had returned to humanity, in a state of rage, hating everything.

there is a song, and it binds

i am becoming something i don't recognize

i move forward, relentlessly. there is a light at the end of all of this, but even if there isn't, these moments matter the most.

i think im writing something repulsive. i want it so badly to be beautiful, but most truths are all ugly and little beauty

i think about all the talents that died silently, buried under the weight of survival responsibility