ive been known to sleep with ghosts. occasionally though, when a suitor catches my eye, or captures an untapped nerve in my heart, i begin to breathe my life into them. i do it little by little of course - handing off my limbs one by one, chunks of flesh bit by bit until the tables are turned, and i’m the ghost. i always know when its happened, even if it does take place subconsciously. i get into this hazy morose state, where i feel nothing, and i assure myself nothing else feels. i systematically desensitize myself to everything. becoming unfazed, and uninterested. the strangest thing is; one would think coming into this person would make purging of it’s creator easier, but it does the complete opposite. its like i’m in this drained, cynical, spiteful sleepwalk trying to strangle the life out of what was supposed to be MY ghost, to give back to myself. and eventually i sit there afterword, failing to recycle my feelings with my head in my hands, and i remember that i can always recreate, but i can never relive. and just like that, i tuck myself into bed, and fall asleep with myself. you weren’t supposed to be one of them. i still have hope you arent. you arent darius, yet you make me hurt like him, leaving me feeling unneeded. you arent ian, yet i never feel good enough. come home, my love. please. i love you so.
find these posts on here, everything you’re forgetting, and everything you need to know are in them.
-naked as we came.
-id like to meet someone
-theories theorized by a theoretical theorist.
-‘you tell me you love me, but there’s hate in your eyes.’
-there’s a ghosts that lives inside of my head.
-am i the only one?
-this feeling is organic.
-the consequences of owning a tongue.
-home is where you hang yourself.
-everyones running for that finish line.
-somedays i just want to sell everything i own and
-you’re not good at goodbyes.
-nice things.
