sometimes i still leave my window open at night in the hopes that peter pan will come through and tell me about all his adventures in neverland, to help me sleep, and boast his narcissism, and i wonder if, maybe, he’ll even fall in love with me– but before too long i realize how impractical … More Fantasies
it is far too late for me to love you– and yet, i still do.
i wrote a poem and called it lost because it seemed to wander aimlessly, drifting without direction and without meaning– as no matter how hard i tried i was left with only a skeleton of a thought that would never be written regardless of how desperately i longed to find it.
if only i could drop everything and drive until i reached a place where no one knew my name– but i would probably just make the same mistakes all over again and eventually long to escape from there, too.
i seem to be losing people at exactly the same rate as the quick, achingly tired beats of my broken heart.
i live in a state of permanent nostalgia where i am always recklessly happy, desperately sad, and a little bit heartbroken all at once.
i don’t think i belong on the west coast– but then again, i don’t think i belong anywhere, really and maybe that is just the way you’re supposed to feel when you are struggling to find yourself.