and she's so pretty, so damn right

11/11/24

the face that launched a thousand ships 

and if you can't get me alone will you still think i'm pretty? cause you say it all the time and sometimes i think it but only when i'm alone and unobserved 

like an angel, it only happens when you're not looking. 

and i wouldn't change anything. i just wish i was better. prettier, yes. but stronger more than anything 

i wish i was as strong as him. and as mature. 

i'm too old to still be so pathetic and weak and i will give up on everything and that still won't be enough 

because i am not enough 

the more it hurts, the less it shows 

and i still have a home and i always will but i wonder if you will always see that old house as a home and it scares me to know what the answer is. people love you, and you know that 

but there are times where love is not enough. it doesn't happen often. i hope i'm wrong. i hope you go back for christmas and you feel the warmth and you forgive. and you will forgive because how could you not? that's the difference between us. i am too full of spite and stubbornness. and you know when to let things go and when to love. 

and you said that i deserve love but what about you. you deserve so much more. you deserve happiness and love, but more than anything, peace 

and i'm scared only one of us can have that 

viuamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus 

let us live, my Lesbia, and love 

and she left him and he never forgot her and he wrote until he lost how to write and then there was the next to fall victim and we all fall down 

there is something sick in the heart of every poet. and i know this because all rational people know not to confront others with the harshness of the heart. that brittle little thing that sometimes beats so loudly, you wish it would stop all together. 

and so i'm here and i can't write like they can. i can't write at all. things that should, don't inspire me. Nothing inspires me. i am inspired by Nothing 

and he is there. and i don't know if i'll love him. and i'm scared that i'm too honest or not honest enough and i'm scared what i'll have to give up and i wish things were easier but things have already been easy. and i've got that sense in my nose. like the sting of chlorine or when you get punched. and it's a strange comfort. a strange sting of nostalgia 

and i need to find some beautiful place to get lost 

but i'll give in when he's here and when i see him, it feels right. but i pity him because he has met me a very strange time in my life. while i'm in some sort of living self-inflicted purgatory 

and i'm sorry 

hope you're all ok 

yours, miss misery