A tribe is a family. A society is a mafia.
Sometimes I kind of feel like I’m already dead. like, I kind of feel the dead, something spiritual, something lovely, something Godly.
“Another fuckin year another cake for my mom“
It’s such a cosmic absurd joke that I’m a writer in a dying civilization, and I’ll just be dust when the punchline hits.
Sometimes
These days, what is there to live for?
We’re not touching each other —
We’re not even seeing each other like
We used to
We’re becoming nothing but air
Running
Out of water
Scorched earth
Skin sheds aflame
He said, I did not burn down your “She Shed, Cheryl”
———————
Stop saying that, you’re making me so mad —
I’m gonna be so mad at you if you kill yourself I’m going to kill you
———————
How do you live in the present when it’s just one large eternal knot?
I can’t believe the will I have to live. It’s almost a disappointment.
I want to run, no I don’t, I want to burrow. I want to dig a bunny hole in my own bed. What am I afraid of?
He called me
Out, like
“you feel bad cause you haven’t really done anything with your life?”
It hurt my feelings (as if they’re ever not)
“Excuse me! I went to graduate school for filmmaking and I’ve been sexually assaulted like 5-6 times.” So
on my tombstone you may write
LYLAS – MFA – PTSD – G2G
———————
Outer space would be cold as fuck. I guess I’d be more comfortable melting to death on earth.
Life is such an annoying oxymoron like I don’t want to be dependent on anyone and I don’t reaaaallly trust anyone but the most meaningful thing I can find to live for is love.
How can I swim in love all alone?
Maybe I can get two cats. And one dog.
the and times 