My parents tell me to cut my hair because it gets in my eyes it looks like shit they say when dad pointed at a bird I could barely see it fly
but what they don't consider what they don't realize is that the longer my hair is the harder it is for people to notice when I start to fucking cry
When I wake up in the morning and spend an hour in the shower letting the warm water soothe the dread that comes with every new day my hair is always there like a blind pulled over the windows to my pain
It's in this Form Because I'm too Tired to Edit it (Angry With Myself)
I'm sitting in my room. the sun is down. I could write something about how it hides from me, but how clever would any endeavor at personification be coming from me? Surely not very. So now I say things just as they are, and if you're reading this the reasons are self-explanatory. I used to feel so proud when I would write something morbid or scary, but those feelings come so rarely that all I feel now is disordered and wary. Once I effortlessly spun webs of intuition and wonders, and now my proudest works are my greatest blunders. I visit this place to give encouragement and well wishes, but...