I Don’t Remember Feeling Pain Like This. I Feel It In My Soul.

i don’t have a mac

Diagnosis: your brain needs some restarting, resetting, retraining, washing, emptying, and programming.

I know his eyes have touched the prettiest of skins. Curvy siluetees with the daintiest of fabrics, hosts of beautiful souls on the inside.

And I know that I’m far from it, and I don’t deserve him.

Is it that bad to want his attention? To feel his texts caress my inner world, knowing his fingers will never touch mine?

Am I hurting myself too much? Is this broken soul beyond repair?

- Yes

Tadeusz Styka: "Tied Up" (1940)

pearl is so kind

where?