i think i love you, which is odd, because i promised myself i couldn't love anything that breathes - on account of a sense for the dramatic and also one time i got thrown against the ground so hard that the splatter was chalk dust. i said i'd never let that happen standing up. it happened like a sunrise anyway, between the fingers over my eyes. you flew as a bird and made a nest in my heart. i want it to pass over me like a locust. my hands keep shaking. anything close can cut through bone. like looking down a deep hole, i hear the stones skitter over and plunge. i wanna be an adult about this and instead i feel like crying. this will only make things worse. i wasn't supposed to do this again. what a fool, this girl.
i think there's something so beautiful about postcards and how they say that yes i was in this beautiful place but i still couldn't stop thinking about you
my only complaint is that the paws appear when you boop someone and not when someone boops you. I want to be scrolling and minding my own business and suddenly get whapped by a cat paw
so many of you have never been 26 or 27. well one day you will. this is not a threat this is a promise. or maybe both. it will be fine, is what i’m saying. and then comes 28