i’m happy. i’m happy with where i am. with what has been and what has not. i am so happy with were i am not. i do not even want it anymore. not even a little. there are other things, other places, other people to fill my time with, fill my heart with, fill my life. it’s exciting, and scary, and like living in a book. but sadly without words like ‘equivocal’ and ‘ardent’. yet still, it brings me joy. this world of mine. and i am happy and content.
maybe if I curl up in a ball and turn out the lights, if I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend not to feel, perhaps if I fill my mind with other things, and push out the question. then. I shan’t have to face it.
you’re a red string tied to my finger
a little love letter i carry with me
you’re sunlight
smoke rings and cigarettes
outlines and kisses from silverscreens.
(Source: rioting-renegade, via earnshawss)
it crept up on me, like the slow noir that descends at sundown, like the subtle change in drying water colours. i didn’t notice it until i was knee deep, until there didn’t seem to be a way to turn around. and i can’t say i want that - because i would be lying, but this deep darkness is not the way either.
