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I want the days when i felt it back. i want to crawl out into the black of the garden at night. i'll try to catch my breath for a few minutes and attempt to find the words to tell you what i'm losing every breath, killing myself for. and i know all the best humans in my life are right around the corner, burning down the kitchen or watching Archer or singing along with Jenny, high as fucking kites. six years removed and i can still hear the murmur of your voices louder than whatever this human wreck in front of me is trying to communicate. trying and failing to speak at all. holy fuck. I don't know if it would have changed anything, but you know that i'd give abso-fucking-lutely anything to speak up while we were all still alive. before we died. i want it back.
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2. |
December Black Sun
02:52
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Some days it's still too much to even move. whole days eaten whole. forehead shattered forward underneath the weight of you. to have lived to see the gleam in your eyes dull from the first night to the last - from the night that you first pulled me through that swinging door in the velvet lounge, to the night in forrest chase when i broke down in front of two thousand people. and i KNOW i'd be dead now because of it, but sometimes i can't help but wish we'd had the sense to share that one night. one dance, sing "we must never be apart" and then separate.
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I hope that when i say "everything will be alright" i don't need to mention that everything will be broken, fucked up for the rest of your fucking broken life. I know that's not even close to what you want from me, yeah i know it's not uplifting in the way you maybe think you need to hear. but it's the truth. it's not what we deserve but it's what we've got. we'll fight the rising of the tide our entire fucking lives and we'll find a way to make it work.
It's been a while between shower breakdowns. the interval is getting longer and we both know there's always going to be another one [for fucksake, i can see it right now. perched on the back of your skull just waiting to leap] but it's been a while. and it's like clinging to some sort of life raft - like counting the days could somehow penetrate the haze - what the fuck am i doing here? beige tiles. a cycle that won't ever end.
but for now, it's been a while. goddamm i'm so fucking proud of you.
don't let it end.
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hopeinthestatic Melbourne, Australia
sad trans feels, brain problems, leaning on foldbacks and drinking all the cider. One girl, one guitar, all of the damages.
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