Big Words and Recycled Phrases

I do not want to die cleaning a tea cup.

In other words - I do not want to die being a trophy wife bitch follower scum.

DO something. Do something to DO something - not to BE someone.

Ditto from 20.

I have the absolute deepest loathing for myself right now in this moment. I want to kill myself. I fucked up big time. My life - what the fuck am I doing? I’m fucking everything up. I thought I was brought up better than this. I want to vomit from the absolute sick feeling I have because of how I have behaved.

Take my life. I don’t deserve all that I have.

.

When I don’t think about the things that are wrong, I am happy.

Why can’t I have an ‘eternal gap year?’

I shouldn’t compare myself to others. I can go back to uni whenever I want.

I am going to write music and songs and make things that you will be proud of. I will impress you. I will make you things. I will do nice things for you.

Dote.

I like this word. And I am going to do it more.

To travel the world with my career. This was my dream.

I am so proud of you. This is something you are so good at. But I can’t help but feel that it’s been taken away from me. This was what I was excited about, a new start, a possible career and hopelessly flailing around the world hoping something would hit me in the head and I would suddenly find my calling. No. It didn’t. I had an internship lined up, and gave it to you. Is love worth it? You’re better than me. You will be doing things I probably wouldn’t have got to do anyways. But I still feel cheated. I can’t help it. I feel like i’m sprialling into a black hole where I will be sitting in this office chair for the rest of my life, on my fat ass earning an office wage, under office fluoro lighting, getting arthuritis in my fingers from typing, rather than twisting knobs and buttons, creating music, publishing, being creative.

I hate my life right now. I’m not happy. But there’s nothing I want you to do to fix it. You can’t. You’re on the right track and I’m incredibly happy for you. I need wish my path would present itself, because I am so sick of watching everyone around me succeed. I have gallons of motivation sitting here waiting for something to throw it on. Give me a flame; A spark even. I’m ready and willing.

I just don’t know what to do anymore.

I love you.

Kiss me. Bury me in your warmth. Trap me in your heart and lock me in your soul. I want to be consumed by you. Suppressed beneath the canopy of trees and sky and stars that will keep us together for a while. I want to feel your pulse allign with mine. I want to make you sweat. We are apart for a moment, only be pulled back by an invisible web tied delicately to your index finger. A mere blink in the scheme of things, that may have made our eyes water, but will now, hopefully,  lengthen our story to that of a novel.

I look to the stars and see distant memories of a time where I could hold you in my arms. We would adventure and tell stories and play games and laugh and cry.  We were cartwheeling through real life cliches into an unknown relm for both of us. Soon, we will be thrusted straight back into that relm and even further decorate it with the art of our future.