1. I have been home for less than 2 hours total in the past 3 days. If that. But now it’s the weekday and parties shall be more difficult to stumble upon.
I fucked up. Why. Why. Why.
I’m trying so hard. I knew better. Why couldn’t I have just not asked that one questions. Why.
the worst feeling about trying to draw is being a mediocre artist. You realize you’re not terrible and family and friends who can’t draw at all tell you all the time how amazing you are, but you, as the artist, have seen what amazing really is and you realize that it isn’t you.
oh my fuck god
It’s so hot that when our skin sticks together, even our sweat
starts sweating. When I lived in New York and you lived
in Georgia, you mailed me love notes in the form of used condoms,
but only ones that had been used when you were with me.
When I ask you if I can put kept living on my job application
because it’s a daily career, you offer to be my reference.
Sometimes I’m rendered speechless by breathing.
If exhaling were the only thing I had to do
for the rest of my life, I think I would quit.
You tell me tonight in bed that if suicidal tendencies
were sexy, my hotness
would be off the charts. But see, love isn’t
talking someone down from the ledge;
it’s being willing to climb up there with them.