To be in love With candid kitchen you
To own desired objects
Sweating is far too polyester abhorrent Lightly perspiring Awaiting correspondence
Need my monk prison death sentence haircut back
what would 80s LL COOL J do?
I’m tired and I’ll forget but damn. Shit is fuckedup
Poking wounds with rusty spoons
Greedy pig life
I give too many fucks I’m a careless fuck giver A promiscuous worrier
I hate myself But all my demons are my own
I'm not a monster I am a monster
The horror of waking up as myself. Again
Me I’ll overthink myself into 500 years of doubt and self murder
no food starve die die u bastard
I can’t hardly breathe in daylight
no food starve die die u bastard
SITS IN CORNER FACING THE WAL
all the beauty I’m not and the intimacy I’m not having It’s a full time job
I do want to add cooking to the very short list of thing I do which consists of basically sleeping and worrying
waking life is one long apology I am truly sorry
selfish spiteful mornings and suffocating silent nights
I suck Thank fuck for great things I can sit with
My corner shop only sells cancer and concrete
Garden of ugh