I'm a fucking Unicorn

Love yourself first and everything else falls into line.

It wasn’t my day. My week. My month. My year. My life. God damn it.

We don’t even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.

I considered suicide, but I felt a strange fondness for my body, my life. Scarred as they were, they were mine.

Let’s allow ourselves space and error, hysteria and grief. Really, we must let the candle burn—pour gasoline on it if necessary. Creation is our gift and we are ill with it. It has sloshed about my bones and awakened me to stare at 5 a.m. walls.

That’s the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens, you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.

Let’s allow ourselves space and error, hysteria and grief. Really, we must let the candle burn—pour gasoline on it if necessary. Creation is our gift and we are ill with it. It has sloshed about my bones and awakened me to stare at 5 a.m. walls.

Human relationships are strange. I mean, you are with one person a while, eating and sleeping and living with them, loving them, talking to them, going places together, and then it stops.

Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?