Since I was a child, I saw magic at the moon,
the planets and the stars
I remember closing my eyes really hard
as I wished for anything that was possible
and I wished for the feeling of being an alien
to disappear once I open my eyes and I am home.
I remember thinking the better I visualized
this wish to no longer feel consumed by my loneliness,
the better the chance of this wish coming true and I am home.
I remember imagining what it’d be like to live
in a future where I felt the people playing soft music
and my family is dancing as they laugh and drink and I am home.
I remember feeling sad that my wishes never came true
but I still found magic in believing in all my wishes anyway
because I know, soon I will love, smile and vanish and I am home.
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I’ve never been optimistic, but I’ve always been hopeful. The thing about optimism is that you always have to look at the bright side and be happy all the time. I think some people have lost their minds trying to positive think their way out of everything that they forget to take care of their malnourished souls. Being happy all the time is not mental health. It’s bullshit. People get tired, and so they rest. People get sad, and so they cry. People get mad, and so they go out with other people who go mad and drink all their craziness away. It’s a beautiful thing to go crazy sometimes you know because by then you become lost and that’s how you find yourself.
I am both self-destructive and self-loving.
Both seem very romantic to me.
—Confessions of a Wallflower, page 17
She went to the bathroom and washed off the day. Put on some light make up and just went outside the house to smoke all her sorrows away. Looking pretty okay for a woman who’s sad. Thinking about the happy person she was yesterday.
I think too much. I feel too much. I hold on to the things that destroy me, and I can’t move on.