yes, i'm drunk. and you're beautiful.and tomorrow morning i'll be sober, but you'll still be beautiful.

i almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days --three such days with you i could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
- john keats, letter to fanny brawne, july 1, 1819

title is from the dreamers

'in a world where everyone struggles to survive whatever the cost,
how could one judge those people who decided to die?
no one can judge. each person knows the extent of their own suffering
or the total absence of meaning in their lives.'

i’m too freaking anxious
and sometimes hysterical.
i get attatched way too easily
and am easily broken.
i long to be loved
and completely empty at the same time.
i give myself away too much
and then wonder why i get so hurt.
i have way too many questions
and not nearly enough time to find all the answers.
i’ve let down a lot of people i love
and don’t know how to make it up to them.
i’m a little weird and crazy
but i try to hide it.
i’m way too heartbroken
and lonely.

i cry because time moves both much too fast

and much too slow at the same time.
i want to seize the day
but i don’t know how.
i am too much of a coward to live

and yet too much of a coward to die.