for all the links in my brain, much less one of them, much less to make words or sense out of them written down. Even poorly so.
i am dehydrated. i feel small.
Seriously questioning my worth sometimes; like when I think of how seemingly useless and chaotic and feeble out lives are anyways. Amazing and beautiful, yes. but is it in that cute, pathetic type of way? In the way that you laugh when you see a small kitten fall, and stumble from a shelf? Why do we desire greatness. Not to glorify mediocracy, or shittiness in general or anything.. But most times i felt inside as if i wanted to be “noticed” or “liked” or “admired” I ended up whole-heartedly regretting. Things become too real, too much. I am being examined, scrutinized, judged and half the time down right belittled. Just let me to myself, my books, my drawings, my cozy nook and my mirror. yes,
- I forget it’s real. I’m sorry I ever doubted your worth. It was really me forgetting who was who. am i you?
