Fog so thick I can't see
Can't breath
Tell myself to run towards it
I thought I could survive here as a child
I'm still here, aren't I?
Something is rotten inside
Insidious and instinctive
It spreads itself all over my body
I grew so old so quickly
I didn't even live my life
And now the end is near and I can smell happiness
Anne W. Brigman (1869–1950) - The Strength of Loneliness, 1914
Fun - 1994
Two disturbed teenage girls kill for fun 🖤
“Black has depth… you can go into it… And you start seeing what you’re afraid of. You start seeing what you love, and it becomes like a dream.”
Rest in horror 🖤
I'd walk into the sea and never come back