i can’t stop chewing my cuticles. i have fully convinced myself that they taste like sweet cantaloupe, a taste i miss but haven’t experienced in years.



i keep searching for the point. we live for others, not ourselves. and familiarity is becoming exhausting, yet i know the changes ahead will make me want these years back by 2020.


i continue to waste the days i have been blessed with by worrying about wasting the days i have been blessed with. no wonder juxtaposition is my favorite literary device.


what does it mean to be human? i fear it is too cruel an adjective to describe myself as. soul feels easier to grasp. emotion is the only thing that we can all connect to. the disconnect lays in how my definition of sadness will not be yours. perhaps that leads way to learning more about each other. what does your sadness look like?


love is love is love is love. i don’t think the word love fully captures the feeling of love. how could one syllable express your heart for another being? the way you feel when they squeeze your hand tight? love should not be the word for love.


i was both intimidated and infatuated with your confidence to map out my iris.


you said to me i was not interesting enough for your liking. i then made it my goal to become the most fascinating- even if that meant putting myself at risk. what i didn’t know was that interesting to you meant the person you first met- not the person you molded me into.


to this day, the scent of apple cider vinegar and dog piss will ring your proclamation of new york state not existing in your household. it was never ours. i am not cut out for living in a basement. i must be surrounded by light.


when i moved into our baby blue home, second hand smoke became my favorite candle.


i refused to believe that they always come back. they did.


dad always told me not to pierce my nose, it’d bring more attention to something so big. so i pierced it twice.


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