The thought of seeing you gives me jelly knees.
When i look at a picture of you i get cold sweats. You scare me. I’m terrified of running into you. I spend my time looking over my shoulder, worried you will be there, staring, disapprovingly, making fun of me, judging me. I will always come up short.
Im insecure and nervous and lost and i write really shit. The shit i write.
This is better though, because what did happiness and security ever do for writing? Nada.
Still, all things should be done with love or not at all. So, with the deepest love: fuck you, and fuck everything you stand for and fuck the fucking horse that you rode in on.
With the deepest love: i fucking hate you because you cannot truly hate something until you’ve loved it.
With the deepest love that i say i hate what you’re about and what you’ve done, and how you do it. i wish you would leave and never ever come back because i would be free.
I would delete you if i could. I would
erase our past if i could. I would turn my head inside out and upside down and shake myself by the ankles
Till all the memories and feelings and the rest of it all tumble out of my pockets and fall on to the floor and i will be empty and i will feel nothing.
Happiness and confidence is the death of worthwhile creativity. I just think of daniel johns and weep. I just think of success and weep. I just think and i could cry for hours. Fuck you.
When i’m happy i do nothing.
Better this way, no?
The thought of you seeing me in the clothes i used to wear scares me.
You will think, ‘he hasn’t changed at all.’