universe wants to express itself through us, we just have to be open to it

pain is a window to your body

pain is a tool

this older lady behind the counter sincerely thanked me for not yelling at her when she couldn’t figure out how to handle my request. it brought tears to my eyes — is that the default? just yell at others? sad.

we traded friendships for contacts, communities for networks.

fuck LinkedIn. it makes me sick to see their profiles with their stupid little buttoned-up profile pictures, bragging about how they were good boys making money for the big man.

it pisses me off even more because, despite wanting to throw up at this, there’s still a little part of me that says — should you be a good boy yourself? make some money for them so you can, idk, have a place to live and food to eat. and if you’re good, you might even get a week off to try living for a change. nice.

fuck this shit. is there no other way?

what do you wanna be when you grow up — the exploited or the exploiter?

i can feel your heartbeat while you’re kissing someone else…

sometimes i wake up from a dream i hardly remember, but i’m sure you were there. my memory often takes me back to those days that were not special in any particular way. but those were the best, the ones we remember the least. there are some things i will never understand, but i need to find peace with knowing so. how does one fall out of love? was it never there, and it just takes time to realize? i am slowly forgetting the names of places we used to go. not only the names, but the places themselves. is life like this? your attention creates a world with firm boundaries, so you can’t see anything else, but once you put your attention elsewhere, the previous world starts to vanish?

people don’t want what’s healthy; they want what’s familiar

sorrow-suckin’ forehead kiss

sunburnt and unkissed

want is measured in sacrifice