Sometimes I wish I could sit down with an absolute stranger and spill my guts. Tell them about who I think about being.
Because a lot of times I want out. And I can’t even really described what this is that I am trying to get out of.
I feel like I am not changing enough or in the right direction. It’s fucking habitual how often I tell myself I am not enough.
It didn’t get easier. But maybe it become more apparent. I know what I am doing to myself.
Yet I still do it.
I don’t know why I have such a desire to destructively ruin my life sometimes.
What the fuck am I doing anyways?
Another pass, another silence.
An introduction for the record.
a foggy morning downtown
☮ ˚✿ I’m following back until I reach my goal ✿˚ ☮
i miss my smiley