When I look at the girls I love I challenge them to be okay with dying alone. If they can’t take it, or I can’t take it, we will be naive for the evening and kiss like the world is ending.


My nihilistic look didn’t work and despite all the biting of lips, our flesh is left raw.

Smoking military grade extracts on these trustafarian Christian sluts.

If a white boy doesn’t know The Binding of Isaac he can’t claim to be a wigger.

You’re going to use the crosswalk like a fucking goy!?!?

The amount of mid-tier Beckys who have admitted to gooning to themselves after three drinks has convinced me that marriage is not the path for the modern man.

I’m back on here for the foreseeable because I had too many crazies stalking my Twitter. Approaching me in public too.


One instance I can share is I was dancing at a club while on molly and this girl starts shoving me saying she saw my tweets about her. I think I tweeted about her once and had totally forgot the content of the tweet itself.

Anyway, I’ll miss my anime girl posters and goonettes the most.

I can’t vibe with a therapist unless it feels like she is providing sex work.

All my stalkers want to fuck me. Okay, what’s new?

Every girl I’ve said no to having sex with has threatened to kill themselves.

Somehow this bitch thought that getting up and leaving a date was an intentional move on my part to get laid.

No, I actually was uncomfortable as fuck after you mentioned for the sixth time how horny you were.

Is it really so hard to believe that I don’t want to get laid?

God, I hate dating.

I want to make someone look at me again like he did. I fell in love with his terror because it was the most honest thing about him. Life unravels when you can’t talk your way out of a hypothetical. The skin is soft and the will is weak.

I've been writing a ton and feel good only for the brief moment after something is completed. Otherwise, I'm pretty miserable during the whole present experience of it.

Music is better because the entire process is pleasent. I love the piano and how caressing it is.

I do wish I played piano eariler just because how distracting it is too. I can play at a time like this and weep without the tears or despair.

I sometimes dream of a touch that could take me out of its grasp but am completely fine with it never coming.

Like my cold room is a melody and there is nobody out there. Yet I’ll play until the birds sing, and their chirps feel like applause.

I’m here to be evil, and yet the absence social media makes me feel produces notes, not sentences.

You're right, words are often so very cruel. It occurs to me now that maybe we never spoke. You don't have arms, so, allow me to play then for you. Somehow we grew up together and I never noticed.

I hate tarot. It’s just annoying bad sentiment for no reason.

I know I have karmic debt. The annoying part is that it’s always ambiguously good or bad every-time. NOTHING but manifest value (me!me!me!).

Leave me the fuck alone with your pleas for attention. You’ll never have worth to me. How about you do something, like actually engage with the world?


MAYBE YOU CAN CHANGE THINGS BY ASSERTING WILL.

I fought god and lost. But I’ve never had trouble taking advantage of fortuna. She’s an easy woman.

I have a prince soul NOT a knight’s soul. No chivalry is contained within my soul sweetheart.

She could AT LEAST tell me where I went wrong. Listen, 10 years older basically makes you my teacher and baby I’m eager.

Ugh I hate talking to women. They sometimes just start saying the same things.

I’m so done with mentally ill girls. They are like super spreaders of evil and never try to get better.



They’ll take birth control without fail but cannot be bothered to take a pill that stops the constant misery they pull others into.

Trying to not sad post but recently I’ve been getting blackout. Not really as a cope either, usually I’m just out with people and don’t want to kill the vibe.

Let’s never fuck actually. I would soooo much prefer that.

I fall in love way too easily. I’m already heartbroken and lighting candles in an attempt to reignite our fiery connection. Why am I mourning again?

I saw it in your eyes, didnt I? Something natural and real— no! Not again!


So here I am, typing out what could’ve been. My daydream reverie! My beautiful—

I deserve nothing but these pathetic yearnings. This series of self harm I’ve created for myself.

“I didn’t choose what I dream about”
says my coping mechanisms.

But already I have made myself into nothing again. I’m simply crying out, drunkenly, a lost hope that was already gone. It’s embarrassing and so,

I often wish I was never born.