(I’m looking at) pictures of myself smiling with people I don’t talk to or even talk shit on anymore, I want to talk about them with you. I want to tell you about my past, I want to tell you about trips I took when I was running away or fist fights I got into that got me out of class. I want to tell you about everything, I wish you could’ve been there, I wish you could’ve saved me that summer I swore pictures of planes crashing into bridges was the only way to express how I felt, making broken seals in dissolvable stitches tracing new found veins into each tiny digit, and staring at screens, living life around a battery, “oh i’m sorry, I can’t go out, I’m stuck inside, watching everything eventually go.” But I’m happy because if you let me I will watch you die. I can’t take how easily the earth moves underneath my feet but i’m too restless to sleep, no I haven’t even rest in weeks. I’ve been trying to find myself in others similarities that I could see is this all real life, or is this just all bad TV? Why are we so afraid to watch the dead when they finally die? Is it because we see their opportunities pass them by? There’s a family in a cemetery, there’s a family in a home, If I can’t even afford a grave for myself than why am I so afraid of dying alone?
