Latest Blog Post

𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢

She woke up again and didn't know why. The ceiling stared back like it was waiting for her to give up. Same cracked paint, same half-dead light bulb buzzing like a fly she couldn't swat. It seemed like her body just kept breathing out of spite. There was no reason for it, no spark, just autopilot dragging her body.

Every time she thought she'd hit bottom, the floor gave out and she fell again, into another night, another stupid mistake she wouldn't even remember later. She tried filling the hole in her chest with anything that could hurt her more. Men, women, attention. Lines of snow and on her wrists. Fag burns on her legs. Shots until her stomach flipped inside out. She even got a gig to star in hardcore adult movie. It still ended the same after. Her staring at the ceiling while her heart kept beating for no reason, smoke curling up like a slow suicide. There was nothing left to fix because there was nothing left to break. Nothing stayed, all just slid off her skin, left her emptier than before, like every fix only carved the hole deeper.

The same thoughts ran laps in her skull. She let the hours slide past, the calls go unanswered, the ink shop sit quiet. Everything she built was dying slow, like her. Maybe that's the only thing she's ever been good at, ruining everything, even herself. Maybe she was just born wrong, a biological mistake that learned how to breathe.

She used to think she could fix it by burning everything down and starting over, but she's run out of matches and the fire never caught. She knows she'll wake up again tomorrow, same as today, same as every other day before. Still breathing when she doesn't want to.

She's so dog tired, in barbed wires till she tries to catalog and
Count up all the grief until she cries of every single night just on
Repeat until she dies
No goodbyes, no more blue skies