soba
MONDAY, MARCH 26 2025 - 'PM' IS TOO CLOSE TO 'AM' AT TIMES LIKE THESE
i remember how i used to live, and how badly i wanted to tear myself out.
A BURNING SENSATION. A SKINLESS FEELING , YOU HAD DESCRIBED IT THEN. CHEESE GRATER AGAINST SKIN.
i didn't want to live like that anymore.
white light outside my sloppily boarded windows. i had no curtains. it was so bright, all the time. it was so hot, all the time. every afternoon i was burning. i couldn't stop the sun.
it's a beautiful thing the internet these days provide. the ability to choose, to mold, to form - to find - your own environment. that really is the only thing i dislike about twitter. if it were a place like tumblr, i could easily just block the 'weed' tag. you can't do that here.
but anyways,
i remember going through my days like i was on fire, and no one else saw. i wrote like that too. no one saw either. never shared. except for one section that had leaked out, but there was so much more.
it's not as if no one was there to listen, this time Was the peak of the friend group anyway. but i was burning at all the wrong times.
i only ever spoke in analogies and references no one would ever get. i remember being frustrated, i remember being a dancing bonfire. hazy-eyed smiles. i counted the breaths of my flooring, i'd imagine myself floating out in the white sky, i'd see the tops of buildings, i'd make friends with the zebra doves.
the peak of the friend group, i say.
YOU WERE SO LONELY
i didn't want to live like that anymore. in a way it shaped me, sure, it made me Somewhat Beautiful. but only ever at the wrong times.
i don't want to live like that anymore. without ever knowing what was under my bed. constant paranoia (of The Bugs). these days it's just me under the bed now. but that haze is always closeted in my heart. always. i will never forget that feeling of loneliness. how could i? it was a different form of death. i was a walking - barely-there - corpse aflame. my vision was saturated to the max, the objects around me breathed in sync with my tattered lungs. my desk was the color of her skin. jaundice yellow. it took breath like she did. mumbled - slurred like she did. Even the Bile was Kind to Me, i had said. warmth up my nose, out my mouth. i wonder how much time i've spent in that bathroom just puking my entire life out.
i remember being so happy when i moved out.
i had curtains that october, and suddenly the sun's voice wasn't too much anymore. fresh paint smell, cabinet cabinet cabinet. oh dear. i Was So Happy.
it's not exactly like that anymore. happiness isn't something that happens anymore, i have to seek it out, (without substance), to Choose it. but i don't think that's a bad thing. i've been quite content really.
LIKE A GRADUAL SUNRISE
THE SKY UNDRESSES BEFORE YOUR EYES
what you're looking for is a way of life. the only catch?