07.12.23
Mike Driver
Not today Justin

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Cosimo Galluzzi
RMH

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we're not kids anymore.
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YOU ARE THE REASON
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@psicopepsiinc
07.12.23
01.08.23 - Metáfora sobre os céus
Se você for parar pra pensar, azul é uma cor exótica demais pra caracterizar cerca de 60% da nossa visão sobre este planeta.. É exótica demais pra ser a cor que a gente vê quando olha pra cima. É tão… claro… e… vibrante, não sei. Pra mim, só não faz sentido nenhum o céu ser azul. Por que ele não é mais neutro? Branco, talvez?
Marte possui o céu cinza. Não posso dizer com propriedade por nunca ter morado em Marte, mas eu digo que eu me sentiria muito mais pertencente a um planeta com céus constantemente cinzas do que um azul ora cinza, ora laranja, ora preto. Eu vivo num relacionamento tóxico com a Terra, vivo nela mas odeio tudo dentro dela - o céu principalmente. Mesmo que o pôr-do-sol daqui seja atordoante, sou eternamente apaixonada por Marte.
14.04.24 - love confession
im going slightly mad.
in the moment, there's nothing that id like more to do than a love confession.
it is not like i havent done it before.
i just wish so bad i could say how much i want to be yours,
even though sometimes i heard you say im already like that.
after all is said and done, it just seems like you actually learned my ways
- the way i talk,
- the way i think,
- the way i talk about completely irrelevant stuff like Mars' skies and make it about us.
- the way i make literally anything be about us.
i wish i could express how much i like you.
words dont seem to be enough,
acts dont seem to be enough,
how the hell can i fulfill you?
are you even made to be fulfilled?
...
in the end,
i dont even know what it means to be yours.
and i think that neither do you.
and maybe that's because we've been belonging to each other for so long,
that we no longer know what it is to not be each other's.
we've probably forgotten by this time.
but it is still frustrating that it doesnt seem to be enough
all the touch, time, thoughts.
and its not that something's missing,
is just that... this weird feeling that there could be more.
but what more?