half my life is rage, the other indescribable sorrow.

okay so when will the alienation i feel from my own body end

i b like im battling demons and the demons r becoming my mother

guyssssssss im so fucking tired lmao

not like, in a sleepy sense. in a “i crave the eternal peace of being under 6 foot of dirt” sense

hope all fascists die and go to hell no matter what btw

my inner child is so dead

*saying it in the same tone as yesterday, the day before and the entire year* ohhhhh its one of Those days

fighting with people is the only thing that makes me feel alive maybe i should never choose peace

everyone always talks about being abnormal about something others are normal about but you don’t know true pain until you dgaf about something apparently everyone cares for

why is no one even slightly attractive to me

maybe its the antidepressants. maybe im in my aceggot era

what the fuck am i supposed to do with the rest of my life

texted my ex im on my faggot shit again

they be saying anything in philosophy books

fatherless behavior

woody allen’s “realism” is just so boring. i’ve been thinking of his work again these days and aside from marrying your wife’s actual child, his art has nothing to say.

woody allen as a postmodern artist is the Bahare Rahnama of new wave poetry. it mimics the same principles but it falls short due to its inherent insincerity and such is the way when a guy who truly hasn’t gone through anything tries selling you a depressed artist persona

if you ever wondered what the fuck im on remember im autistic and that’ll do it