I Adore The Thought Of Soulmates In Every Century/world/universe/life/forever But They Aren't Lovers

i don't know what to do with myself anymore

i think about my best friend from middle school and how i still follow him on social media and watch him do photography of cats and concerts and how i wish i could tell him i miss him and love him and how he was my first everything and i can't thank him enough for being everything to me. i think about how bitter i feel when i see him with other people but now miles separate us and i wonder if he feels the same about me i wonder if he misses me. i still carry the pink rock he gave me years ago. i call it my lucky rock and it goes with me everywhere i go

nevermind im mad at her again

i need to hug my mother and cry into her neck because i miss the warm embrace of her womb and this bed is too cold for me; i just wish she held me. i just want her to care for me forever, no matter how bitter and painful loving me is

finding old accounts is like finding proof u really did exist two years ago which is like yeah i know i did but that me from two years ago was me and i was her and that makes it so disgustingly weird yet endearing yet everything wrong with the world because i hate to be perceived and who else to judge u harder than ur future self who is wiser (slightly) and knows more (not really)? so i feel a little sick but also, she was such a silly girl. just a silly lost sad angry girl

i cannot really handle birds or fish as pets anymore because i have seen the dead forms of both and they haunt me so closely and i do not need that on my conscience

i also wish humans did not care so much for intimacy because i hate to see anything around me die and i think a cat or a puppy or a lover would hurt the most and i already know i would not survive it

sometimes i just feel this crumbled up piece of paper in my stomach and it wont go away and instead my mouth gets dry and im scared of everything and the next day seems so far away and im choking on my own fears and not sure if ill make it through

i have this distinct need to make myself the smallest in a room because i always take up too my space with my loud voice. i talk loudly and flail my hands around because i don't know how to control myself in front of other people. so maybe, if the bones in my body shrunk and i lost more than eighty percent of my fat then my voice would shrink with me and i would match the tone of the normal people in the room. maybe then i can not only look at myself in the mirror and be happy, i can also listen to my own voice and avoid wanting to claw out my vocal chords. i'll feel normal i think

thinking about that quote by anne carson, "I am someone who did not die when I should have died." and yeah. im wandering the earth with an empty heart and a filled mind like a sick little ghost. it hurts even more when i dont fit into the atmosphere around me and everything feels drowsy and unsettled. im not meant to be here i was meant to disperse and dissolve and disappear years ago and u can tell because i dont fit into this world. im not part of this world like everyone else. im too empty to care and live and love

can someone hire me as a lighthouse keeper. my grip on reality is soooo stable and i will behave so normally under conditions of extreme isolation. and i promise i wont try to fuck the light

Im terrified of losing people and I cling hard because I know ill always be the one who will grieve more i will be the one who misses and yearns for years i will be the one who will never forget