thistled-nook

[thistled-nook]

For someone so used to being talked over, you would think I have more words to say.

I find, more often than not, that others say it better.

As if my words are not accurate enough to describe my own feelings

That I do not accentuate properly

My voice is a composition of others that I have borrowed

[thistled-nook]

I need to smell his cologne

I need to smell him

[thistled-nook]

On another note BABYYYYYY WHY DONT YOU COME OVERRRRR RED WINE SUPERNOVAAAAA FALL RIGHT INTO MEEEEEE

[thistled-nook]

Can’t let him know that the dream I had about us chilling in a room next to each other in silence was actually us cuddling and being one of the most comforting things I’ve ever dreamed

[thistled-nook]

In therapy I use a ditch metaphor to describe my depression, how with each day I seem to fall deeper into the darkest pits of nothing.

I have my days where I’m able to climb, only a little, and they are few, but she is there to help me.

I’m grateful that my therapist gives me ladders to make my trek easier, but some of them I don’t know how to use yet, and others I tend to think are too short.

When the day comes that I understand how to use them, I will know things will be okay.

[thistled-nook]

OH MY GODDDDDDD WE SAW EACH OTHER AFTER LITERALLY THREE WEEKS OF JUST TEXTING AND HE PICKED ME UP AND SPUN ME AROUND AND HE LITERALLY LOOKS SO GOOD LIKE WHAT A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES UGH AND HIS LAUGH AND JUST HIM GOT ME LIKE

[thistled-nook]

Why was it my plaster covered brick and boarded doors you had to break through just to see the dusty, rotten inside?