there are knots in my hair that will probably never come out. Ive broken so many combs and pencils and hearts just trying to remove the things that I dont think belong.
I’ll soak my hair in conditioner for hours. I’ll soak in my thoughts for hours. I’ll sulk for hours.
I only believe in the things that don’t make me feel like they have to believe in me back in order to be appreciated.
Things that I feel like don’t need effort both ways to survive. Or to feel relevant.
I only trust the things my mom tells me not to. And I only drink poison when I’m told it’s the worst time to do so. My mind is like a dust storm.
I can’t run my fingers through my hair. You can’t run your fingers through my hair.
It’s all just
I haven’t seen my bedroom floor in weeks. I haven’t seen my reflection in weeks. I haven’t seen you in weeks.