Rae. Eighteen. Been looking forward to the end of high school since the moment it began. Welcome to my insanely eclectic fraction of the Internet.
So my name is Joey White and I’m a very pasty pale British white guy at uni overseas. So I was introducing myself and this guy from Nigeria goes “Hi, I’m Joseph” so I said, “I’m a Joseph too! Joseph White.” Then he looked me in the eye and said in a dead serious tone “I’m Joseph Brown” and we nearly died.
I want to do things with my life but I also want to bury myself in a forest and let the moss grow over me so where does that leave us
shipping your own characters sucks because it takes forever just to introduce them, let alone build up the drama of the will-they-won’t-they before anything actually happens
dead-drunk and thinking of everyone
anyone else but you.
half-asleep and dreaming of a time
when there would not be any light
in the morning
and no promise of love
on the other side of the bed.
I’m not saying I miss loneliness
but I fear I have lost
the strength it gave me.
I just don’t want anything beautiful, I want something real. I don’t want to write any more bullshit about sunsets and the ocean and my dreams; I want you to hold your hand against the page and feel my heart beat. Even now, I’m writing something that is too much like fiction because there aren’t any words left for what I’m feeling. I’m happy and I’m also sad. That’s all I can say.
Pain is the proof that you tried, and guilt
you wanted to be more than all you were.
Although it hurts, we hope the burn, eventually
will warm us through.
I don’t know why it is we call emptiness
the gift. I run through the night after
morning, to find in your place
only a quiet death. A cut-out space.