Morose Texts from Last Night the Sequel

I need help finding the broken pieces of myself can you come over?

I locked myself out of my heart again, slept in the cold </3

New tinder profile: seeking someone to watch Netflix and hold me while I cry DTF

I’m loosing my heart to the sea

what’s good for the goose isnt’ always good for the gander

pretty sure soul mates are made up of the pieces of yourself you shed along the way

I am the glue keeping the cracks together 

First date: brazenly drunk. Second date: painfully shy. Third date: soul mates. Stops texting you back. Rinse & repeat

I only have two settings and both of them are tongue tied

the greatest romance is with my own broken heart

My type is the sad lonely artist types who can’t love me back

New tinder profile: seeking a poet who doesn’t slobber when he makes love

 the kind of girl with a lover for each of her neurosis 

can’t sleep my feelings will get me, you?

My hobbies include dwelling on the past and using it to sabotage my future 

Googled my symptoms came up with malignant tumor of fear of rejection and self hatred

I just called to say I’m over you is code for when are you coming back

I’m concerned about you is code for the amount of details you share about your breakdowns on the internet makes me uncomfortable with my own secrets

It burns me up to feel this way about your icy shoulder

New tinder profile: if I knew how to accept the loneliness I wouldn’t be on here

I’m not worried he will hit me again I’m worried I won’t be able to feel love if he doesn’t

Failure is the only option that feels right

I can’t hold your hand bcz I’m too busy holding my heart together 

I built my home in the scary place so I wouldn’t have to run as far to chase my demons

It takes a lot of courage to drown your sorrows like puppies

text u 😭😢😪 bcz I’m dead inside and can’t shed real tears

Maybe only broken ppl know how to love my broken pieces

Nightmares about you holding her hand again

heart starting to dissolve into sweet nothings YOLO

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Dreaming

In the dream it was fall and overcast and grey with that murky sort of twilight and the grass was long and dry and yellow and the trees were bare and rattled like bones in the sighing wind and the horned animals were unaware we were walking among them, and we were escaping from somewhere, but never truly escaping, just finding another path, and the deep wisdom of the Forrest surrounded us in it’s horrifying oppressive majesty.

Pinned under the weight of conciousness of our own fate carved by our own hand.
No wonder the Greeks invented myths to put the scissors in someone else’s hands.
It was calypso in the drawing room with your dwindling sands of time.

I’m lost at sea is a saying. I’ve never been to sea. So I feel wrong saying it. But I’ve never been to space either. I’m certainly lost.

What he didn’t account for was being lost you love no one. You are so entirely alone how could you begin to feel such things? everything is done out of sheer necessity for survival, the same instinct that tell animals to eat their young.

In the end I’m not sure it will matter how much or how greatly you have loved.

I want to be a leviathan with single purpose destruction and all knowing wisdom, beautiful black scales, sleeping power.

we are all our own messiah.
The message is wasted on the messenger.

There was something important in the dream about culling the flock. individuals serving the greater purpose. it was still macbre but it made sense. It meant we needed to keep going. it was so insidiously perfect you don’t think to remember it because how could you forget that you’ve always known this one small thing?

Hope is an illusion of perception only true so long as nothing has happened yet.

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Morose texts from last night

Everyone dies; truth is lived in the moment.

Love is what happens while you are waiting around to die.

I want to love everyone but just for a little bit. Your five minutes are up.

Good and bad are mute points; it’s all the same shade of bleak on the greyscale.

I’ve had enough hair of the dog this week; I would be better off moving to China and eating the whole god damn thing.

Feel sorry for the children; they all grow up to be fuck ups in some bodies eyes. (Maybe yours?)

When I return I’m never going back.

Make more art. Burn the shitty stuff to stay warm. Repeat until masterpiece achieved.

Ain’t nobody got time to fix their make up for their mug shot.

Run the risk of trying too hard rather than dying bored. It’s only a failure in retrospect.

I write my memoirs starting at the end; one day I will catch up with where this story is going.

Tragedy gives weight to the most frivolous of moments. Laughter brings ease to the most dire of circumstances. Everything in excess.

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