Some Pretentious Bullshit for my 90th Post

I'm bubbling over

And everyone can tell. 

It’s obvious in the swell of the chaos inside of me, in how it dribbles from my eyes and creates tide pools that reflect my tired face. The swell comes and goes with no discernible pattern, unlike the tide. The moon is a calming presence that I cannot hope to have, and oh if that doesn’t sting- doesn’t prick barbs into my skin as brackish water comes, soothing, out from the pinpricks up and down my arms. I spend days connecting the scabbed-over, clammy dots, trying desperately to find the hidden picture, but the chaos just overflows and washes the lines away. Down, down, down my arms, salt mixing with ink and dripping black tears from the tips of my fingers. Sometimes I paint pictures with the make-shift brush, swirling my fingers on the blank walls like a child. 

But whenever I wake up, they’ve gone. 

So I stopped making them. 

The water never drains though, and it’s risen over the days weeks months years that I’ve been here. From my scarred ankles to my knobbly knees- it’s up to my belly button by now.

Sometimes I swim in it; close my eyes and drift down to the soaked carpet floor, drowning slowly in the chaos that’s been inside me for a lifetime. 

The Dreamy Notion of More

I feel like the evolution of greatness is humanities biggest white lie.

Well, one of the biggest. There's certainly a lot out there.

When There's Nothing Left to Burn, You Have to Set Yourself on Fire

My newest musical addiction is "Your Ex-Lover is Dead", by Stars, because holy shit this song is amazing.

I'm Not Sorry There's Nothing to Save

It's sunny and clear outside, and barely a minute ago something ugly and greasy constricted in my chest as I started thinking about things.

Doctor Who References and Late Night Ramblings

It's 3 AM- well, no, 3:24 AM- and I've started to get a little teary-eyed.


No particular reason though, to be honest. Just that lovely teenage thing were little things mosh together into one big whopping Thing, and attack you relentlessly in the middle of the night when you get up for a glass of water. Self-anxiety and confusion and resignation to aspects of the future. Anticipation and nervous excitement twisting knots in my stomach as I smile and cry all at the same time.

(I think it's pretty safe to say my time of the month may be approaching)

Silent Scream

The thing is, no one cares.

And even if I were to tell anyone, it's not as if anything would change. It'd just be a momentary discomfort, and some added paranoia, perhaps. Nothing even really happened, but I think I wouldn't feel so bad about it if I could tell someone, anyone. But the few people I've tried to tell have ignored me, and I can't even post here.