OH HOW I LONG TO WRAP MYSELF IN IGNORANCE AND PRETEND MY LIFE IS ALREADY OVER
I won’t give up. I won’t do it. but ugh I want to. I know I’m better than I was. I believe I can be better than I am now. I have this fragile, hollow kind of hope that one day I will feel like life is worth the effort. like life isn’t a series of disappointments, like at some point the endless chain of expectancies for me to prove myself will end; will break without breaking me. but, I hold this porcelain hope so tight, I have no cushion to protect it. what if it shatters in my face? it has before. what if I didn’t rebuild it strong enough?
I’m not an addict, thank lucifer, I’m just a miserable glutton. I no longer feel that I need my drugs, but I fear I’m the sort of person whose eyes won’t sparkle without influence
fuck a trail trees are my friends I want to be close to them
it’s not okay when public restrooms are super cold