#adam text

[1978junction]

I’ve drawn too much happy billy. the next one will be different.

[handcramp1ng]

I hold something new

I feel it blossom in my chest. Something so painfully wonderful. The euphoria sends a creep up my spine and for moments at a time I am entranced at what we grew in my heart’s dormancy.

[handcramp1ng]

Depression Journal #1

My depression is loud, especially so at night. It’s slimy. It slithers through my body and into my head. She’s so mean. She’s catty. She takes the things I love most and makes them into nothing. She obliterates my creativity, she burns my writing, and whispers in the most sinister tone, “ What you have to say doesn't matter, why is this important?” The saddest part is I don’t know how to even answer her anymore. I know she lies. I know she just wants to see me be silent and submit. But she gets so loud. So persistent. I ache. I get tired. It’s midnight. I find tissues and wipe my eyes. This isn’t the last battle. She still hasn’t won. She’ll be back again. I’ll fight many battles over a constant war. I am a warrior. I’ll prevail.

[handcramp1ng]

People are kind of like the grooves left in pages when we write. Sometimes, they stay for a few lines and fade off as if they were never there. Others leave marks that last till the end of the book. We run over the inscribed letters, and remember them with bittersweet fondness. It also never gets easier to tell who will add to the mess of messages in our text. What a strange power others unknowingly possess.

[handcramp1ng]

Remind me, that there are tiny, fragile yellow flowers growing in between cracked sidewalks.

Again, on days where old milks spoils freshly brewed coffee.

Again, please, of blush bitten cheeks and painful grins.

And once more, to be aware of the calming presence held in routine.

Remind me that peace is alive and well even when we cannot feel it ourselves.

[handcramp1ng]

We drive in the silence of loud music. The drowsiness of 2am is thick in the air. The night sky and winding road create an enclosure of black outside our windows.

Your eyes are the gateway to a mind brimming with philosophy and a power I could never place. You remind me of  the softness of petals with the guard of fog. Your vacant stare is trained on the road, but you are elsewhere. Where do you go on nights like this?

Our friendship, like telephone wires hang connected but remain distant. I want to reach out, I want to reassure the spark isn't fading. You sing passively while my fingers lay heavy in my lap.

The spell of night is broken as we pull into the driveway. I’ve never really known what we are or where we stand, but this is nothing new. You are my most loved fair-weather friend, a feeling I hold for very few. I do not tell you this.

We whisper our goodnights. As I wonder when I’ll see you again, I remember you taught me the word “forlorn.” You were also the first to show me how it feels, as well

[catboyfood]

I don’t remember like anyone I’m following here anymore lol

[handcramp1ng]

I just want to SCREAM. So loud. I want buildings to shake and the ground to vibrate under people’s feet. I want to break lightbulbs and streetlights with the sound of my anguished, raw voice.