#ineff-ability

some days feel like standing on the edge of a cliff,

yes, the wind is in my hair,

and yes the view is enough to snatch my breath away,

but all i can do is look down, and wonder how long it would take to fall.

however, where there is a cliff, there is also someone pulling me back. 

i don’t believe in soulmates anymore

but someone important once mentioned how everything in the universe was once space dust,

i think that our space dust always floated together. 

and even if this is the only universe in which that is so,

i am glad for this one. 

i am glad you exist in my life.

i may be able to count you all on my fingers, 

but who judges a sunset for only happening once a day? 

thank you. i love you. and i needn’t add any tags or any assurances that this is “only platonic”. 

who ever said that platonic wasn’t enough?

ineffablity (n.) - incapable of being expressed or described in words

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i wonder where hate is born

does it lurk beneath the surface, wearing a mask of another, before ripping it off and displaying its true colours?

is it like water being poured into a cup, eventually cascading over the sides and spilling out to the world?

perhaps it's a ghost, destined to hold your hand and walk down every path with you, something that doesn't, and will not, abandon you.

hate hate hate hate hate hatea hate htae htae haet hate hat eah hate aha teh ahtea hate hate aheat haet hate hate hate ages ahte heat hear yeah ahte htae haet hat ehta hea theat hate hate hatera hate htae ahtea aha teh eah aheat hate.

the word itself is ugly. everything about it disgusts me.

the way that fathers can turn their hate on their daughters disgusts me. the way marriages can fall into hate so easily disgusts me. the way that hate can transform people into shells of themselves disgusts me.

hate must have been born somewhere equally as disgusting. in the midst of bloodshed, or next to the graphs which forced a person to coin the phrase "global warming".

guilt has plagued me, ever since my chubby fingers could messily tie back my own hair, and my lips were less chapped and more used to kissing my teddies goodnight 

it seems like my only friend on some days.

my only constant - it knows me better than most. 

guilt will unwrap my deepest secrets like birthday presents and glow brighter with each one

it will bake a cake that tastes like failure and hand it to me, all smiles.

it toys with me, finding joy in the way i scramble to leave its grasp.

guilt lives in my head, in my stomach, in my bones

beep

tides shift as the moon waxes and wanes,

and the sun rises and falls with every day.

nature is not inclined to immortality, and so neither should i.