Tag Archives: growing up


"Isn't it weird when cutters meet?"

                        -you turn to me; "Is it?"

I take another sip of my whiskey

                  and attempt nonchalance

You don't buy it

                  I don't look you in the eye

you begin to string words together

carefully chosen - taking time

                          then nod to yourself

and eat them all up

I tell you about my geometry box

You tell me about the razorsharp

falling out of your wallet every time

                               you look for change

          Neither of us are the type

          to trust in divine intervention

but perhaps you could mistake that

                                             for a sign?

I stopped cutting a long time ago

                 I tell you so much

I could tell you everything

You scratch your head

         and say you don't remember

                             when you stopped

                 that's okay

I still cut everyday

only these scars don't

       show on my skin.



(Written in August after meeting a kindred.)

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Cannot begin to explain the joy of being able to listen to all of this old music without breaking into a panic attack sitting in your chair, in your own house.
Also how nice to have real friends instead of manipulative mindfucks.

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The Original Emo.


Why does growing up have to be such a hard learning? I’m having trouble distinguishing reality from fabrications at this point; renegotiating how full of shit I used to be/still am. But this apology/thank you tour was a long time coming. I am glad I am still only twenty three.

I have a handful of difficult mails to send out when I’m ready, deal with a few ghosts. Begin by letting go.



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