i don’t know what’s left of me.
words dont come too easily anymore. sometimes i just want to live alone with this drive. this subtle hint of sorrow.
cause no one sees me honestly anymore. just seems like nobody wants to know this.
im supposed to live in a cabin alone someday. who can thrive living this way? in this city. where nobody is impressive and everyone just tries. no commitment. not even in the things they say. no definite answers or clearly defined paths. love is a lie and everyone is expendable. replaceable. common place. i can find you anywhere. around the corner in the park at a club that needs to lose and its losing. so are you.
i wish i got dolled up and drunk. i used to want to be out and seen at a constant rate, even though no one wanted to see me. wants to see me. i was turning into terror and the feelings that i used to have in reoccurring dreams were coming true. still are. the anxiety. the daunting voice that says “hey you’re too far gone”
i gotta be something else. something that lives forever. someone shiny and renewed. not up to date. something totally different.
maybe i can only be that alone in my cabin with my cats and my cigarettes, my cognizance and well…its late. i was just thinking that remoteness could be good or something.
but we all feel that way sometimes.
i sit here
on the perfect end
of a star,
pour itself toward
Richard Brautigan, Star Hole (via beryl-azure)
- i don’t want to feel right now.
"Nothing can wear you out like caring about people."
S.E. Hinton, That Was Then, This Is Now (via illusionsvk)