my-dear-self

[my-dear-self]

Hi, old self.

Wew! It has been a long time, it's been years. I was reading on your previous blogs/re-blogs and wow, you've been really hard on yourself. I mean, I'm not really in a good place right now that's why I'm here again. But reading those made me realize now that all these years, I did better. Still not at my best but better. So please, don't be too hard on yourself. You always got this!

051524

[my-dear-self]

“I think about dying, but I don't want to die. Not even close. In fact, my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic. There's so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I'm still here, in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can't quite figure out what the hell I'm doing or how to get out of it.”

— Matty Healy

[my-dear-self]

nobody writes happy poems if they aren’t about love.

so this is a happy poem, but it is not about love.

this is about my body sinking into my mother’s couch after a long walk, my head feeling light and my fingernails painted.

today i did good things and tonight i did better things.

the world makes sense to me again.

and when i wake up, it might not. but then it will again.

and it always will again.

and again. and again.