theoretically a writer

"I CANT HANDLE THIS" *handles this*

"I CANT TAKE ANOTHER DAY" *takes another day*

let me tell you a secret – sometimes i think this might all be a bad dream. every now and then, when the world is quiet enough, when the yellow light hits the ceiling just right, i feel like a child again. sometimes i wish i could find the spot where time is the weakest, touch it, tear it apart, and wake up on the sofa, behind my parents’ backs where i’ve crawled after some nightmare. from the tv, a laugh track. i’m pretending to sleep. it’s summer. see, the balcony door is ajar. see, there’s a mosquito trying to get in. see, my heart isn’t aching. see?

i hope death is like being carried to your bedroom, when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party. i hope you can hear the laughter from the next room - lilies abounded

Nostalgia is like hey remember that time in your life when you were unbearably sad and angry all the time? What if you weren't? What if you actually miss it? What if magnolia trees never smell like that again?