there are no exits where you’re going
reminds me of the end of the world and i love it 🤍
~~
new york, new york 🖤
“he wished being alive always felt this good”
turtle neck sweaters and steaming mugs of coffee and overcast clouds and leaves of red and yellow and orange and glossy doc martens and red lipstick stains on necks and pinkie promises and crunching strolls on new york city sidewalks
“you’re never more alive than when you’re almost dead”
tim o’brien
“we must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest,”
ohh she’s pretty with the sunset in her hair
watch the sawdust n dirt,
swirl swirl swirl
down the drain
throw ur dreams in the trash baby girl xx
and he sat at the oncologist waiting room as life dimmed outside
xxii | she/her | psychology & creative writing | desperately searching for meaning in the mundane
33 posts