Not a cloud in the sky, full moon directly overhead. It’s too bright in the city to see the stars, so this illusion will have to do. They blink too much, like they were anxiously aware of their own falseness, as if any minute someone was going to find them out. I would tell them, please keep twinkling: it’s better than the dark.
Nights like this, with all the things I’ve deliberately refused to accept, at times I can no longer tell if I want too much or simply embrace too little.
I visited a stranger's grave.
A Lover's Quarrel with Writing
Motion. Emotion. Slow motion. Hide my intentions. Show my imperfections. Everyday I'm just trying to get myself into motion.
2pm on a weekday. I'm over this. No more complaining. I'll use that energy to plan my escape.
Stories I Couldn't Tell Her - Part 1 of Countless
When I think of being content, this is what I picture.
#1: Learn to receive love.
I guess this place isn't so bad. For now.