In This Dream, You Are In A Pit.

every time I try to write something silly it's not long before things get mildly serious and the tone changes

but I want to channel my inner child and forget all that, I want to write something fun without overthinking

N. 

How to describe someone time isn’t a friend of- 

Fate knows your name, 

It’s strong, your strong. In your arms, I feel safe, 

Until we let go

Music turned all the way up 

The only song I wanted to hear was your heart 

Harmonious, a voice so sweet to the ears 

Fate might not be our friend, 

But time knows our name and dammit it demands it so mockingly, 

Like a threat. 

Dare we prove fate wrong and test the stars?  We’ll test the boundaries of life itself.

JERK

NO. You haven’t heard me. 

Words don’t flow like they use to, 

Movements don’t bloom like they use to, 

Moments don’t fly like they use to. 

You don’t even know the beginning of it. 

Chances? Won’t let me take them. 

Laughter, you know it so very well. 

Mocking is second nature. 

JERK- 

Oh wait, that’s me. 

I’m sorry, was it something you thought?

You contort your body like it's written in your code, 

Come hear me hiss. Fear not, I don’t bite-  Waiting for your calculated strike.

Umduğunu bulamazsan bulduğunu um..

thank you

didn’t you know you’d get what was coming to you?

oh come on, you had to have known. yet you still decided to act like everyone owed you something, so the world gave you it— not what you wanted but what you deserved.

i write this for you— but to say your name would give you too much power.

you’ll be buried and the world will spin on

you’ll be worm food and we will forget you, however our dna won’t. not till we break the cycle.

Who else literally does not talk

i saw a post on twitter by a european saying americans are fake for their random compliments to strangers and their general cheery demeanor and like no. no no no you don’t understand. if you get a random compliment from an american on the street about your outfit or whatever, that is 100% genuine. we mean it. we aren’t lying we are making a small but fleeting connection with you because our lives are shitty but the human condition is enduring. oh god i’m clutching my chest

Just a girl, wrapped in a blanket, with the wind whistling and the rain storming outside, doing her research for her thesis, in a paratextual friendship with twenty-years-old Mary Shelley she will never know about because we are two centuries apart

i love you because i don’t know how to love myself

because it’s so much easier than loving myself