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“When I say I’m hard to love you won’t believe me. You’ll think they are self-deprecating words and merely a misunderstanding. That maybe I just don’t value myself enough. But that’s because when I say I’m hard to love I am not describing anything explosive. I do not mean that I will be screaming through my lungs or wielding weapons with my words. Rather, I will be patient and kind and lead you to believe in things that do not exist. Because when I say I’m hard to love I mean that I am a mirage. You will mistakenly think it only takes time for me to become something more. But no matter how hard you try you will not find what you are looking for.”
— Mirage, V.P.
writing about happy things was never my idea of fun.
the thing is, when you ask me who I write about I really don’t know
No one makes me feel the way I do,
Writers curse, I guess
My mind is constantly over analyzing and not analyzing enough
To the point where I make all these stories up in my head.
I feel strongly about things that don’t matter, the little tiny things.
I may also have a bad memory I can still remember everything that someone says.
Most of the time I wish I didn’t.
Because I am a writer, I feel so much that I don’t know what to do with it
I end up putting it in a blabbering mess of words and meanings that not even I understand.
I wish I had it in me to write about something less than.
But I don’t, I feel.
“I learned hate from you. But then again, I also know what love is because of you.”
— Hira (via hedonistpoet)