hello, old me

I used to derive a sick sort of masochistic pleasure from re-reading my old poetry. It was something I used to punish myself with, in a paradoxical way. "Look at how good you were. Look at you now." And yet... "Look at how awful you were. You haven't changed." And I thought that's how it… Continue reading hello, old me

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my heart

There's a big part of me that wants to hide away from the world. I've thought about it a lot. I'd live in a small apartment with everything I'd need; lots of blankets and stuffed animals to keep me company, lots of big shirts to stay comfy, and a completely full fridge with enough chocolate… Continue reading my heart