To The Words I can't Express...

I seem to be living a very expensive lifestyle called eating food regularly

i have suffered less than christ but have complained way more abt it

firm believe that not everything happens for a reason, sometimes things are just cruel. and they shouldn’t have happened and it’s not supposed to be a lesson because we never deserved such thing.

i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever

running errands like kurt vonnegut

running errands like kurt vonnegut

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

i listened to my body and it's asking for substances

god forbid a woman is boring and a low achiever and likes to drink