💌

Guess I didn't count on meeting you. Still, it's fucking funny if you ask me, life has such a way with us.

I'll admit I'm still a bit weird, not so much to brag about it to be fair. I stopped writing so much, now I prefer new ways of tearing my soul apart. To keep it out of the body, detached from the bones.

Yet, the sadness is still here. I remember talking to you and saying we both didn't think we'll hold on for so many years. I couldn't see past 18, you said 16.

Is hysterical, how still the holidays make me feel like this. I'm so tired of fighting the same demons again and again. Every time it's dressed differently, but the pain is the same.

It used to feel like home, but even home now feels like suffocating. Like dust and like resentment.