#zyai

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...and there can be many flowers

We can be either the flower or the soil. This is a choice.

Do not for a flower, choose to be soil.

We must all grow.

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𝙲𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝒮𝑒𝑒?

𝚂𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝕀’𝕞 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝓈𝑜 𝐼 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢. 𝔽𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝓅𝑜𝑒𝓉𝓇𝓎, 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝕟𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛. 𝔽𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝓅𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝, 𝕤𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟’𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖, 𝐼 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇. 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥. 𝒩𝑜 𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎. 𝙸’𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕘𝕠 𝓃𝑜𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒.

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Black Letter

Aching. Breaking. Tarnished and Black.

Split. Torn. Worn and Cracked.

Hollowed. Emptied. Splintered and Bruised.

Scarred. Charred. Sore and abused.

And dim. And poisoned. And dark. And crude.

And rotting. And bleeding. And leaking. And skewed.

It’s warped. It’s raw. It’s marred. It’s peeling. It’s dwarfed and flawed, its shards aren’t healing.

It’s callous, it’s crippled, it’s caving, it’s cold, it’s mangled, it’s uglied, it’s sickly, it’s old, it’s holey, it’s crushed, it’s slivered, it’s frail, it’s painful, it’s dying, it’s

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Burning In Hell.

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Conversation// 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

How do I run from my life? How do I escape? 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙖𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙜𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩

How do I disappear and leave the people I knew? 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙤𝙗𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝘼𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙜𝙤, 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪

Where do I go? What do I say? Do I say words? Which ones, which way?

Why am I crying? 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬 Ok, but what are they?

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 I think too much too I feel too many things 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤

𝙄𝙩’𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙊𝙧 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙤𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 Well who cares what they think, right? Cause I hate me the most

I just want a new life Love, friends, and joy Is that too much to ask? 𝙄𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙮

I don’t understand 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩? I just want to know why 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙪𝙝, 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠

I’m not sick, I’m fine Look, I’m up out’ve bed 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙

Then I should get help 𝙒𝙝𝙤’𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙨? 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚, 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙧, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣. 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚, 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄’𝙢 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙣, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙚𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 I guess, you’re not wrong 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝘼𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨, 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙮𝙨𝙛𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 Please stop 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙚. Who the fuck are you to say 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙢𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣

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Dear God,

I give up.

P.s. Make it hurt.