i’m scared for the first person that gets to really see my mind. i don’t even like to look at it. always the same beige walls underneath all the posters & soot from incense. i’m scared because they will probably run away like all the others before them. sometimes i want to run, but all i can do is run in circles. same shit, different day. different day, same gnawing reality. i’ve only told five people that i thought i would be dead by now. to whoever might be reading this, make it six.

regardless, i’m glad i’m here.

(2/1/19)