i’m alone but my mind is not. it is only now that i am able to see that. that i am able to understand. i’m thinking of all the female characters i’ve ever created and written down. to some extent they are the perfect reflection of me. i keep describing and explaining my life and myself in different forms on paper because i don’t know how to do it differently. i feel as if talking is not my way of communication. because then it takes too long for people to get me, to know me. to learn something about me and i don’t really have the time. me and my thoughts, people and their bullshit.
i need to re-read heavier than heaven. it’s been too long. i can hardly recall its beauty anymore. the rose, the heart-shaped boxes, the words. they are fading away and all that’s left is the music. his name is on my shoes but i give it no importance. everything shapes me up everything leaves a mark. i’m right out there but i’m hiding. pieces of me are hanging in the air because i thought i was being brave. i said i had no expectations but i lied. you always do.
silence almost feels like torture.