already messed up, 2026 gon be my year fr

need a cup of coffee. an excellent therapist, some wiser older human to cry to. a poem that’ll have my neck between its teeth, a million dollars, to go somewhere far. to retreat, to overcome my fear of trying and of facing a blank page. etc, etc

god loves you, but not enough to save you, so baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself

Shelley Duvall, 1970

and with every step i took it became more impossible for me to turn back. and my mind was empty—or it was as though my mind had become one enormous, anaesthetized wound. i thought only, one day i'll weep for this. one of these days i'll start to cry.

– giovanni's room, james baldwin

this book is destroying me little by little