bad things keep happening to me, and i can no longer speak of myself.
bad things keep happening to me, and i find myself getting quieter and quieter. there are more and more things i do not speak of. and perhaps this is a good thing — the raucousness of my youth is not something to be romanticised (too much) in post. bad things keep happening to me, and i find that i speak less and less of you. perhaps this is natural. obsession cannot last forever.
bad things keep happening to me, and i find myself retreating further and further. it’s quieter in my head now.
things will get better. but for now i am mute
🖤