Why Do Humans Need Companionship?

You’re smiling at me like the gate is closed and there’s nowhere for me to go.

You’re smiling like I still want you

through all the slurring, the blurring of your addiction and the cold, long winter of your silence.

You’re smiling like we’re living a party, baby and my eyes aren’t on that neon exit.

You’re smiling like I’m a boomerang, destined to circle back right into your hand

to relive that experience.

Your biggest insult to me.

— s. lee { x }

“Anyone who has actually been that sad can tell you that there’s nothing beautiful or literary or mysterious about depression.”

— Jasmine Warga, My Heart and Other Black Holes (via perfectquote)

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰────────────⊱◈◈◈⊰─────

➵ Jibaku shounen Hanako-kun

➵ Toilet-bound Hanako-kun

⊱ Hanako-kun (Yugi Amane)

⊱ Yugi Tsukasa

⊱ Nene Yashiro

⊱ Kou Minamoto

⟿ Author's Official Art

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰────────────⊱◈◈◈⊰─────

It felt like we went up and up and up-

higher than I was comfortable with.

My legs started to burn with each step

Until the burn left, no room left for it

And they just slowed, peanut butter steps

And then stopped, too tired to keep time.

Turning around felt like defeat

But good.

On the way down they shook

Bambi knees in jell-o

And every step felt a little bit

like I was falling.

The path ribboned its way

A steady incline

A human paved path

And still my legs

New born, half-set,

Paced a drunk’s gait down

This hill with ideas of grandeur

I did not feel shame or guilt

In my gut

I felt accomplished and proud

Until we spoke later

And then I felt a little bit-

Like I wished I had fallen.

1:50pm 7/1/2021

“Dying is an art,like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.”

What is a candle turned wax?

It has one fixed shape,its life has been drained and it is useless.

Nevertheless I can’t help viewing it as an object which still has much to give.

Yes,it has completed it’s life’s task;

Thus,hasn’t it been freed from the burden of needing a purpose?

Shapeless,vacuous,mutilated,yet—

free

As I sit here,staring at a newly lit candle,I can’t help seeing my life being mirrored in the flame.

It is not burning,it’s living.

Somewhat pliable,though it still holds its shape.

Much like myself,really.

I can bend myself to my own will,yet I am subject to the still air that engulfs me.

Am I living my life,or is my life living me?

Devoid of purpose,I grasp at the slightest shift taking place in my life.

My life-long friend has come to check on me.

It has never once left me,only side-stepped so as to witness how I would fare with knowing him gone.

It will forever be bound to me,and I to him.

A life-long friendship bringing excruciating pain in my bones,in my flesh,a drought that cannot be recovered from.

I am yours,and you are mine.

I regret our meeting as much as I treasure it.

Am I offering you a worthy companionship?

Drifting apart and sitting on the sidelines may be a good change.

They always say we will value the most what we had but ended up losing,don’t they?

Let’s put a seal on our friendship,celebrating our reunion and promising for it to be the last in a long time.

I have cried more than a few times today and we both ask myself, what is wrong?

Well, I am looking at myself waiting for the answer, I seem unable to conceive that it is I who is supposed to speak, I who is supposed to know.

I don’t know.

I look at myself expecting an answer but the mirror doesn’t flinch.

.

I have to be smart and I have to be different or nothing will have meaning, but already nothing means anything so why this desire to be apart from everyone while crying out: why am I apart from everyone?

.

I don’t know if I like the things I like or I just think I do, if who I am is who I really am or who I think I am supposed to be.

I am my best friend but that is only because I have no other friends.

.

I feel light years away from everyone else but I feel galaxies away from myself.

I want to be everything so much that I end up being less than nothing.

.

You can’t replace all the blood in a person.

Do you know what that means?

.

I burst into tears at signs of tenderness and I live a new life every day, I feel more the character than the actor, I feel more the actor than myself.

.

I cry at fictional scenarios and I joy in thoughts of strangers, yet I cannot call my friends back or reply to a single text.

.

It seems instead of finding love I find new colors of sorrow, new ways to cry and new languages in which to say it hurts.

.

Do my words mean something even if I don’t?

I don’t. I don’t.

.

I am tired of categorizing my emotions as symptoms.

.

Everything I’ve ever written is the same thing, repeated.

You can guess it by now.

— I'm glad your sickness, Marina Tsvetaeva (translated from the Russian by Elaine Feinstein)

i am tired and uninspired

i am used batteries

i am talent-less i am stale

i am a book thats been read and now sits on the shelf

i am a broken guitar string

i am useless

i am invisible

everyday i feel like i’m at war with the world

some days i feel like im standing on the tallest mountain,

screaming at the top of my lungs

”look at me, please, look at me“

if loneliness ever needed a defention,

it‘d be me

i see countless faces everyday

but do they see me? NO!

i am alone

i am invisible

all i wanna do is help other people like me

i wanna hold you and kiss your scars

and say ”i swear to god it‘ll be okay“

not today, but one day

one day, you‘ll wake up and smile for no damn reason

but today, we can cry

today we can be invisible.

invisible by dandelion hands

I can't live as I once did, telling people that I was doing fine and desperately wanting them to wade through the language and see that I was in pain.

Hanif Abdurraqib, A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance

I think millennials don’t want to have children right now because they’ve seen their mothers (baby boomers) make up for what they missed out on from becoming young parents. The ones I’ve seen have failed miserably at doing so.