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311
I don't call myself generous. I just sometimes stumble and drop the basket of my emotions. Before I manage to pick them up, everyone seems to have a piece. I didn't give them away, they took it. My basket is empty and I've got nothing for myself. I never asked, but I did want a piece of emotion,too.
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I don't know how to make myself easier. I don't know how not to be so much work, headache, disappointment. I tried a thousand ways to be less. I crystallized myself in so many shapes and the degree is never high enough. I don't know how to be enough; not more, not new, not too much. just fucking enough.
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In an ideal world I wouldn't be pulling up to function because I'd be busy staring at someone from across the street then disappearing when a bus passes
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Brain how about you stop trying my patience by engaging in frivolous activities w the sensory input and instead start processing a little bit of this pile of emotions you've refused to acknowledge for ages
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That stage of academic stress where you just give up on everything and begin watching trashy cliché filled stuffy movie instead (I'm cooked)
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there are some ppl here whom i really feel close to even if we only talk once every blue moon
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Get analysed idiot, get absolutely diagrammatized, you know what get interpreted even, get your name assigned to one of my jstor workspace folders
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It's about time I started following in the footsteps of my ancestors (one more minor inconvenience i swear)
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I swear I'm so full of love and passion but I'm sooooo bothered like I'm so good at being bothered you can just breathe and there you have it you have bothered me
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I literally saw people who don't know who Sherlock Holmes is or they haven't watched harry potter at any point in their lives, nothing is capable of surprising me anymore.
