#andwherenow

[andwherenow]

hayley williams what do i doooo

[letmybonesturntodust]

this lowkey high key isnt lord huron related at all but i have another blog im more active on called @andwherenow

its poems and short stories and other silly things ANYWAY i miss alive from whispering pines

[andwherenow]

new blog new blong: @surecoupon i will be posting here from now on

[andwherenow]

my ex bf used chat gpt as his therapist while we were together and rarely communicated with me when i begged him to 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 no it didn’t end well

[andwherenow]

i almost died today and it was all my fault

a head-on at 65 miles per hour

i sat in the grass i tore up after swerving out of the left lane

i thought i had time to pass a tractor and i almost killed someone. i almost killed someone. it really does happen that fast

it would’ve been a very different night tonight for both of our friends and families if we wouldn’t have swerved at the right time

who do i apologize to. i wish i could tell them im sorry. i wish i could tell whoever owned the grass i ruined im sorry. i told my parents and friends im sorry.

[andwherenow]

everything is quieter now

do you agree?

does my absence leave you emptier?

do you too feel like your ribs have opened, with a child jumping in your innards like rain puddles?

i’ll probably never know. this cycle of not knowing how you truly feel will continue to eat away at me.

i just want to hear from you. and while we’re on the topic of what i want, i want you back

and i want you to love me this time.

[andwherenow]

10/19/25

i deleted all social medias from my phone, as there is nothing for me there. now i wake up and scroll through my camera roll, looking for you

up north, the wildflower bouquet you carefully picked for me on a walk. how soon did you forget

yesterday i wanted to bring your clothes back. but it started pouring and you know i don’t like driving in the rain

you were cruel to me and it feels as tho my ribs are cracked open. but i would let you crawl back in if you wanted

[andwherenow]

10/16/25

i wrote you a poem, so long ago now, about the feeling of your hands around my waist and how i fell asleep to the thought of that.

i lay on my stomach and try to picture my head fitting perfectly between your bicep and chest like it always did.

how strange is the fact that calling you my baby comes as naturally as sobs do when i realize i will likely never do that again.

but i won’t give him this. i won’t tell him this. i will instead move silently with my jaw clenched and my eyes wide. throw myself into my studies. get away. and then get away some more.