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Description
This is what endings feel like... things passing away.
Poets and philosophers rave about the value of sorrow... how it... what... proclaims our transformation. Makes us grow... etc. Well... let me throw in my two cents: Fuck it.
It feels quite surreal to stop trying to save the sinking ship and just play with makeup. I don’t want to use it again as overcompensation... only for the joy of its own.
I don’t want, ever again, to use art as means to not “lose it.” I just want to enjoy it.
And I’m heartsick of “waiting for my life to begin”... just want to live it. 🖤

Description
This is what endings feel like... things passing away.
Poets and philosophers rave about the value of sorrow... how it... what... proclaims our transformation. Makes us grow... etc. Well... let me throw in my two cents: Fuck it.
It feels quite surreal to stop trying to save the sinking ship and just play with makeup. I don’t want to use it again as overcompensation... only for the joy of its own.
I don’t want, ever again, to use art as means to not “lose it.” I just want to enjoy it.
And I’m heartsick of “waiting for my life to begin”... just want to live it. 🖤