totallynotavillain

[totallynotavillain]

It’s the odd hours of the night I feel like sneaking out my own house to escape myself.

[totallynotavillain]

I dance around conversations about my health like a professional ballerina.

[totallynotavillain]

Write about your feelings they said, listen to playlists they said, well all I write is depressing shit and listen to songs that make me wanna crawl under my broken haunted ass bed and cry for a few days.

[totallynotavillain]

When I lose it, it’s the ghosts of people that are still alive that haunt my mind and make me want to let go a little more.

[totallynotavillain]

I want the syrupy feeling of comfortably hot tea to wash over me and drown me in a blanket of sleepiness, maybe then I can stop praying to unknown gods that I can have one night of sleep in which I don’t torture myself until I pass out.

[totallynotavillain]

I give and give and worry until I’m nothing but knots and frayed ends, spun on a thread worn sweater I pick at to the calm my anxiety.

[totallynotavillain]

I still listen to the songs we screamed at the top of our lungs, in parking lots filled people we didn’t care about