#a lot of the stuff I’ve been writing lately is just simple journaling aaaaand most of my journaling has been about art block

[spacechampion]

rough 2am poetry under cut, will probably delete in the morning

i know it is because my emotions are too big for me to contain.

i know these feeling intimately; they are held close as they would shred me, flay me open and bare for all to see if they were expressed as i need them to be.

i know them, yet they are unnamed. they will remain unnamed as i can hardly describe the shape of them, let alone the sound they will make ripping out of my chest

i know my desires for expression are overwhelming, my worries and anxieties insurmountable in this paralyzing fear. worst case scenarios rapidly become the only possible outcome.

what if im right? god help me if im correct about any of this

i like solitude, i find my own company most rewarding. But

i don’t want to be alone.

i wish to hold and be held in ways that heal, but what if that’s too familiar a request? can you really ask that of anyone, guilt free? without creating more hurt, more harm in your path?

penny for your thoughts? feedback? comments, critiques? nothing can be worse than what i think about myself!

i worry i remain aloof, distant, un interested when of course the opposite is the truth. obviously

maybe the ruin i fear is inevitable. maybe i’m destruction inherent.

its foolish to hope for any other destination