"You are Kelly Zenn! You'll be fine."

5/29/17, 1:54 pm, I compiled:

"I don't want to live." We laugh, mouths full of sugar–filling time, filling a hole. Or trying anyway.
"It does feel fruitless sometimes."
"That is why we just have to keep going."
"In the wise words of Paul Kalanithi, 'I can't go on, I will go on.'"
We sigh. The sun hasn't emerged from the clouds yet, obstructing our ability to feel grateful. But still we know the world is at our fingertips, nothing to frown for. We frown harder and then we laugh. The sun peeks through.

"I forgot what a broken heart feels like."
"Physically painful?"
A breeze enters through the window, caressing my face softly. I cringe.
"Fuck yes."

"How many women have begged you to stay?
... don't answer that."

"I found underwear. What a day!"

"Why do we fuck with this shit?"
"We're bored. Boys, heroin, hobbies: all one in the same."

Sometimes it is better to have never loved at all rather than to have loved and lost. It is all circumstantial. Cliches are not whole truths.

 "Embrace the pain. Surrender. Release."

Daggers.
"I know you're intense. I felt that from the beginning. I'm sorry it doesn't always work out for you."
"I wish I could be more empathetic to how my actions affect you."
"I don't want to affect you."
"I don't care."
"Whatever."
"I don't have time for you."
"I thought I knew you pretty well."
"Thank you. It has been an honor."

You are not weightless. You move me, I let you move me. I sought you out. I got lost, lost in your sweet nothings since September.


At least there is a goal to reach for. Vegan cherry pie. Someday.