#073020

i am not yours to love, and neither am i. i don’t know who you think i am but it’s not i. i don’t see anything eye to eye, i’m shattered and don’t romanticize it to fit your idea of me. i’m tired and bothered and annoyed. i’ve always been a story in someone’s fucking book and for once let me slam it shut and say “no, this is me.” you can’t twist and turn and mold me into someone new. i might be a little blue for you, but i can say the exact same for you. i’m not sad for the reasons like you. i know beauty. i see it very well actually. i see it in the blue sky, the birds as they glide through the blue eternity. i see with the blooming flowers and i see it when i look into specific eyes. i see it when the flies buzz around road kill because every single death is misfortune but that’s life. it’s here and gone the next and in a sick way, that’s what makes it so damn beautiful. and you? oh honey, you, please don’t act like you knew.