incredible things

I guess it’s like. with or without my happiness, my permission, the world is going to keep turning & my name is already written in dust so I might as well do what makes me happy that in turn doesn’t hurt anyone else bc if all other things are equal, if I know that I’m irrelevant and I know that I’m already dead and I know that we’re all insignificant to each other, I guess I might as well be really tender if I can and just try to out-happy the massive silence of the universe

nobody ever praises me or pats me on the head or feeds me small treats despite my consistent excellence in the field of not purposefully ripping cabinet doors off their hinges to fulfill some sort of maladaptive destructive urge

Embracing my demons. French kissing them. Might fuck them.

i made your favorite dish. i made you something you’ve never tried before. i love you. i spent twenty minutes chopping. my grandmother made this for me when i was little. i made this dairy free for you. i love you. i want to eat together. the onions made me cry. i love you. i learned this recipe for you. i love you. i made this special for your birthday. i love you. i know you don’t like peppers. i love you. i love you. i love you.