I really wish I had a room to myself or just my own place.
I would be walking around naked 90% of the time.
This whole “roommate” situation just isn’t for me anymore.
Playing music loudly whilst pacing about naked never sounds like a bad idea to me.
I want to be taken on a nice sushi date, then walked around Barnes and Nobles browsing and reading little things we find interesting aloud to one another, over a cup of tea.
I’ve fallen to a wanderlust that can only be stayed via the detailing of your body with my lips.
A cartographer’s kiss.
First rough sketches, hands skimming plains of sun-warm skin. Adjusting to climate and the lay of the land across a pure white sky. Pressing the heel of my hand to the hill…
I DESERVE TO BE GREEDY HUH!?
But seriously, it’s my birthday. I’m 20. I feel the same. But I’ll just be Kanye all day. You can’t tell me nothing RIGHT!?
Happy birthday to me.
And I’m not even excited.
20 years old? What?
My eyes hurt because I can’t sleep but I can’t sleep because my head hurts from serious anxiety.
I’m a poet who can’t write, an intellect who can’t excel academically, i’m drowning in my own failures and I’ve never been good at asking for help.
I feel mentally claustrophobic and I don’t know how, but right now I’d just like to relax.
I wish it was easier to be genuinely happy all of the time. I won’t lie and say that I am because lying to make myself feel better, gives me a sense of false security. You can’t just tell someone to “be happy” as if you’re telling someone to do something so minuscule such as looking at something. Happiness is a state of mind and it comes from within. If I’m not happy, I’m simply not happy. It’s as if happiness is locked behind a door and I don’t even have the key to open it. I just can’t seem to reach happiness on my own. I can try to but I can’t promise a constant state of happiness.
Maybe this will pass, hopefully.