rx02

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳, 𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯; 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 

people smoke to forget, they say. why is it every time i light up a cigarette, i remember you? this shit isn't fair, no? it makes me wonder if you remember me whenever you smoke too. but then, am i ever even worth a thought? even my own words cannot remember what am i. what difference would there be if you forget me, or i forget myself? when i am nothing but a hollow shell of who i used to be. nothing worth remembering; no legacy nor endeavour left behind. my head is incapable of any rational thought, my heart unworthy of any love. my scars alone are fucking ugly and so i do not wish to see my own visage. i have been a writer for years. it pains me that i cannot write the way i used to anymore; my mental health is continuously deteriorating and i have no means of getting help. but this thing, whatever bullshitry this is – is a futile attempt to come back. i do not want to know if any of this is coherent nor do i want to know if it will make sense to anyone. i just want to vomit this out. i 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 to vomit this out.

and i want to go to sleep for eternity, but this limerence is driving me insane. nothing changes the fact that i actually do miss you. i ache deeply of whatever you can give me; love, hate, attention, sex – whatever. and whatever i felt for you made me do things i've never done before. revealed how much i'm actually able to care so much for someone – and i'll do a shit ton more if you would just let me. your smiles and melodies light up the darkest of my days. your laughter haunts me in my dreams and i die a little inside every time, knowing that even my subconscious giggles like a little girl when i hear it. i hated saying stuff like this, because it's corny as hell, but your eyes hold the universe in them.

would i call this love? no. i can't. it can't be – i'm far too anxious for this. there are simply such luxuries in the world we never deserve.

nevertheless, i want you. it's embarrassing to say, but i mean it. and this isn't just the alcohol in my veins talking right now. i want to be included in your daily routine, i want to know where you are and what you're doing. i want to know everything there is to know about you and use all that shit to know how to treat you right.

[˙ɐןɥˢⁿɔɐ 'ⁿᵒʎ ǝʌᵒן ı ǝʞıן ⁿᵒʎ ˢǝʌᵒן ʎᵖᵒᑫᵒᵘ :ᵖⁿᵒן ʇⁿᵒ ˢıɥʇ ʎɐˢ ᵒʇ ǝƃɐɹⁿᵒɔ ɥƃⁿᵒᵘǝ ɹǝʇˢⁿɯ ı ᵖıᑫɹᵒɟ ᵘǝʌɐǝɥ]

“𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦

𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 

𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦”

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