and apparently puppies on instagram are the only things with bright eyes anymore

and you don’t know about any of this, do you? don’t know how fucked up everything is, right now. don’t know how sometimes, i just sort of want to curl up into a ball and cry for all the shit i’ve lost, now. now. now. and by that, i guess i just mean my innocence. i mean the fleeting, shattered moments when i trusted you more than i trusted anyone else. i mean i’m rereading the books of my childhood, and suddenly i understand. and you don’t feel any of this, do you? don’t get it. what the world has fucking come to. don’t understand that sometimes in life you love people so much, and they will care the world in return and still never know how to love you. and if you hear screaming just let me know, because tonight the monsters in my head are hunting me down to the death again, and sometimes i say things i don’t mean to. and can’t you see it? the way that on the bad nights, sometimes exhaustion slams the door, but never locks me in. and is it better? to be ignorant? to just not have to think about any of this? because… you just look so happy. like all you really want in your life is to spend it loving someone unconditionally.

so im sleep deprived and getting sick as i write this, but like i think this is okay? when i’m sick all logic honestly just goes out the window, but i think it’s okay.

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i’m drinking coffee again

Copy im drinking coffee again.jpgi’m drinking coffee again and i know that doesn’t sound like a big deal but it feels like it to me because other people can somehow function this way but it’s not like that for me. i haven’t been sleeping great of late and am i about to lose my self-control is this what kills me? because it feels that way right now. as the sky smudges itself black and white and i’m still having trouble thinking clearly. as my thoughts distort and bend like beams of light. i’m drinking coffee again even though i know it’s not good for me and i want to laugh it off because normal people laugh it off and that doesn’t feel like a good sign because that’s exactly the way it used to be. i’m drinking coffee again just because the world told me it was all right but it doesn’t feel all right it feels like throwing up but on the inside. but hey at least i feel alive. but hey at least i can keep functioning on nothing even though the smoke alarm is wailing but i’m numb and maybe i’m dissociating so i don’t actually hear anything. and i don’t really feel like editing because the broken limbs collide into themselves and i don’t know how to tell you how i feel because how i feel is shaped by what i want myself to feel and because how i feel is crammed into not having enough time to deal with it because there is never enough time to deal with it. i’m drinking coffee again, and my poems are eroding and i don’t know how to tell you hopeful things when i don’t feel them and it’s not that i don’t love you it’s that i can’t tell you that until i love myself but i can’t love myself so what am i supposed to tell you when you fall apart in my arms? i’m bandaging up my fingers so i can’t hurt even a small part of myself anymore. and i’m scared i’m just lying to myself because isn’t it all just in my head? because isn’t this all just something happening so. far. away? because my head is a runaway train. and i know i’m in control but i don’t even know how to fix this. don’t know which glue will finally work for all my broken pieces. and maybe i’m just tired right now of fighting this. tired of every day being another train wreck. tired of always feeling like this. so i close my eyes. and i brace for the impact. and i put on a helmet. and soon it’ll be over. and as long as other like the fractal spirals of my tears, it probably doesn’t matter–

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