sometimes you don’t heal right. that’s all. they give you a timeline they allow you to feel sympathy and then, at a certain point, it’s “a pity party”. they tell you it wasn’t that deep. that worse things happen to better people and that you’re lucky to have your tongue and your teeth.
last night i cried about dropping a plate but i was crying about getting rejected again but i was crying about getting rejected ever in the first place but i was crying about how i’ll never amount to anything but i was crying about how time doesn’t seem to be working right anymore but i was crying about
my roommate made a face. get over it.
i cut my hands picking up the pieces. that’s how it works, you know. if you handle glass before you’re ready, it only ever serves to make you bleed.
