And When You're Tired, Think Of Me

I think the reason I tend to be an oversharer is because my brain just. Doesn't have a sense of how close a relationship is. Like, a conversation between my best friend and someone on the train feels the exact same to me, even if I cognitively know the difference. So I end up just saying stuff when I feel like it, regardless of whether I know the person that well.

do you wanna hang out tonight my curse was finally lifted

It's been literal years since I've put anything on here. I thought I was such hot shit posting my poetry. I promise I'm better now 😅

Trees

un feu chaud et brisé

ça craque comme des os

avec les vignes qui sèchent autour de vous

ils étouffent ton corps

vos cheveux commencent à brûler

et vous êtes pris au piège

et le parfum est vil

pour quand tu meurs

ils meurent aussi

"i would die for you" this, "i'd walk through fire for you that"

what about "i'd live for you" romances? what about "i never thought i'd be worth the work it would take to piece myself together"?

what about "i don't believe i'm worth it, but for you i'll try"

Without my mental illness I wouldn't know who I am but, because of my mental illness I have no sense of self. Like the logic is super crazy.

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me