sometimes i get a little stressed out because i’m living in a part of history that’ll one day be talked about and discussed and papers written and what am i doing? what have i done? laundry, barely
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there are too many versions of me in the universe! the girl i bumped into but didn’t stop to say sorry to has a version of me in her mind. the guy i let borrow my homework has another version of me in his. even my friends, my family, and everyone i’ve ever met in my life has their own version of me in their minds that i’m not even aware of
you put it into words
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i love myself but i dont love me back
i have never ever related to anything so fucking hard
nah-binary