"Who Do You Know, Boy?" "Me—a Hell Of A Lot Of Myself." "Isn't That Enough?"
"Who do you know, boy?" "Me—a hell of a lot of myself." "Isn't that enough?"
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Some bloomed in the same loneliness
that mutilated others.
I waited for a "go, do it," but all that came was "boy, don't do it."
I waited for a "yeah, that's my boy," but all I heard was "shit, what you're doing is shit."
I kept waiting for their acceptance, until hope faded like the day into the darkness of the night.
And so, I accepted myself, invited myself, and cheered myself.
To say it right, the cake was baked by me, and eaten by me. Full stop.
We shall overcome, the brutality of life
The fate of love keeps my wait warm, knowing that I will find you, love you, and show this world that deep within me, there was always love waiting to break free.
There’s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self.
They wanted me to become a man who fights for his respect. But I became a man who respects himself. And that’s how I became awkward— and I loved
that
kind of awkwardness.
That distance might be a protective barrier, built up over time because things felt too overwhelming, too painful, or too complicated.
Maybe if they try noticing the little things—the way the air feels when they step outside or how the light looks through a window. These moments can help your friend reconnect with how they feel without needing to rush. It’s not about forcing yourself to 'fit in' or ‘be normal.’ It’s about acknowledging yourself and giving yourself permission to gradually re-enter the world at your own pace, without judgment.
hope this is okay
plus any time your friend needs a chat they can email me here, just a chat free, no subscription just two humans talking
guys
what does it mean if you hurt someone
and
you don’t feel anything
…
asking for a friend
…
The wanderer children book concept art illustration
ooh God, good Lord
the pain then, the seasons of lamentations, that seemed to never have an end. the tragic distances of people from me. Was it all to mean that You alone was worthy of my trust ?
ooh God, good Lord
it was it was it was .
Now,with this modest relief and fleeting felicity ooh God it was you that deserved my trust all along.
This is the 11th day of
waiting.
seated in the same spot
grindling my hands
to type
and
what gets out is
ddddhhhhdhdjdhdhddhkjsdhjdsh.
Whatever part of the
brain that platitudinized me to write
is dead now.
It made me fall in love,
and now—kaput—it's gone.
Uuuuh what a devoid day !
I am dissolving
into a desolate form.
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