Your love will be safe with me.

I was dreaming about your record collection and all of our scratched affection.

Winter brings me back to the craving of sleeping endlessly in my bed all day and night. I begin to wonder what's the point in moving when I'll end up back there soon enough anyway. I fall asleep to the darkness and wake up to the darkness, as if nothing has even changed. My dreams are active enough that I barely need to pretend I've nothing much of anything. I see friends, listen to records, go on grand adventures, and it's almost better than anything I could actually do. Until however, there's that point in which someone dies a horrific death or that best friend literally stabs you in the back, then you just have to hope it really is a dream. That's when waking up is quite satisfying. I am very thankful that none of those things happen in my day-to-day life. I have already felt the clenching fear and sadness it can impose.

I have this terrible way of being able to impose extreme feelings of anger and sadness upon myself. The way a pendulum swings, it can change in a moment's notice. I want it to go away. Why can't I have a stable emotion that lasts a significant amount of time. Be able to sit down and enjoy one thing without needing to multi-task or stand up 5 minutes later to begin another task that will inevitably never get finished. I frustrate myself. I don't even know how to explain this the way I'd like to.


Your beauty makes me cry.
Continuously; Dizzy. Nervous. Nauseous. Happy. Content. Fear.


I need a fucking vacation.