we are invin(s)cible

i love (not) being normal.
little things make bigger things when we leave them undone.
i'm in love with being alone.
i am in awe of the darkness.
i am filled with "i wish" and "what if".
i used my last wish on a falling star.
childlike innocence and false pretences.
i'm pretending i just don't care.
i'm (not) so stuck.
i'm sinking.
back to where i was before.
this time i feel like i am not going to make it.

why i love movies.

"When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.
I've lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died."...
Your life is an occasion. Rise to it."

"All stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end and when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin."

"Great. Well done. Now we wait. "
"No. We breathe. We pulse. We regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. 37 seconds, well used, is a lifetime. "

i'm (not) so stuck (on you)

i feel so disconnected from everything and everyone
i don't seem to care anymore,
once again.
i can't be the advice giver, the shoulder, the arms to run to
i'm just not there anymore
distance is supposed to make everything better, make me love you more
somehow nothing works the way it should
counting it down