what flashed before my eyes, all these people i still cared about, and cared about me, and the relations that i threw away for the pursuit of my own ambition that i no longer feel presses into me. staring into that at face value. never feeling more owned, leveraged and used, helpless.

in that moment. nothing mattered more. my mind was broken.

i fear i am getting older with no purpose
I will never apologize for being dissatisfied.

thats what it feels like. the same. exact. feeling of witnessing a tragedy within a dream. like my dad dying. or accidentally killing someone. or dying myself. and brutally desiring for the undo, reversal of what could have been avoided so easily. regret, avoidance, trauma.

—

Love is, wiping down every single toe down after a shower, side to side, drying each one therapeutically, fully, not just swiping at the entire foot as a whole.

—

I mean here it is, me practicing writing
when I feel, genuinely, stupid. Like a dam
suffocating connection within my head.
An authentic airiness as if I know
what its like to be a bimbo. Like I can’t
process my surroundings, don’t know
what it means to lay low, be still,
be aware, socialize with observance.