im 12 years old sitting on my bed reading it’s midnight it’s summer my window is open the crickets are very loud but very soothing my room smells dusty and warm and no one else exists. im 12 years old. the feeling never goes away.
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im 12 years old sitting on my bed reading it’s midnight it’s summer my window is open the crickets are very loud but very soothing my room smells dusty and warm and no one else exists. im 12 years old. the feeling never goes away.
winter is just [lives in oversized sweater] [reads 2,000 page book in 2 days] [sunsets at 2pm] [depression intensifies] [eats soup] [listens to melodrama] [existential dread] [is touch starved] [wakes up early and gets out of bed 2 hours later] [listens to hozier] [“bro feel how cold my hands are”] [drinks tea] [rereads harry potter for the 7th time] [both dreading and restless for the upcoming new year] [avoids human interaction] [drinks more tea]
There’s no such thing as normal, and just being a human being is hard.
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