#emkey

[sodancelittlesister]

for scratches, there are bandaids.

for sadness, we got meds.

for average, there is always space.

and for the rest of us, we go to battle or we wait.

[sodancelittlesister]

death is terrifying, so instead of simply dying you decide to live in a way that is killing you slowly, while telling yourself that you are somehow immortal and will against all odds be undamaged by all the things you put yourself through. you know it is not true, and yet you still manage to convince yourself that this is not the end. you’re still here, so you did it. truth is, slowly killing yourself is also a way of ending life.

[sodancelittlesister]

I don’t want to die, but when the emptiness feels to heavy and the world to large I think of ways to leave. it comforts me.

I don’t want to die, but when my boyfriend wakes up at night and I’m in the bathroom and not in bed, his heart skips a few beats.

I don’t want to die, but there is a war in my head and it has been fought a long time. I can’t tell you for certain who is winning.

I don’t want to die, but I find myself living like I believe I’m immortal.

I don’t want to die, but at times I am convinced I am not even here.

[sodancelittlesister]

you know how people that suffer from tinnitus struggle with noise canceling? well, I struggle when it’s too loud. I don’t have monotonous sounds to shut out, but I need to hear the voices in my head talking over each other to feel safe.

[sodancelittlesister]

all great writers were sad, almost in agony.

kafka, nietzsche, fitzgerald, plath, and the list goes on.

singers, songwriters, painters, they all seem to be able to create even when happy. and if it‘s not a happy lyric in a song the music is happy so that the listener will feel happy, like a hug from someone you don’t care too much about.

writers don’t want to hug you. they want an outlet for thoughts. if that hugs you or rather push you over an edge, they don’t care. it‘s more pure.

[sodancelittlesister]

laying in your bed with clothes on in early morning hours, reminds me of the first time I fell asleep here (at an after party at 6 am).

little did I know then what a perfect adventure I would be in for.

[sodancelittlesister]

this life means nothing to me while this life means everything to me.

and I can’t explain any of it.

[sodancelittlesister]

tired of people being supportive by congratulating you for making it through the day when you’re fighting, when it’s hard.

’at least you’re still here’

I reached a point where I expect more of myself than surviving another day. don’t congratulate me for making bare minimum.

it’s no life to be encouraged.