Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and Other Misfortunes

After all, what exactly is a family, if not a brotherhood and sisterhood afflicted with the same terminal disease?

After all, what exactly is a family, if not a brotherhood and sisterhood afflicted with the same terminal disease?

Things have gotten worse since we last spoke.
I think there’s something wrong.

I think I did once love you.
I think I could have loved you.
But not like this.
Never like this.

But I can’t take ownership of your destruction. I want this to stop.

I think to myself, “If I were a black hole, I’d swallow you and shit you out in tiny pieces.”

I could never dream of being a monster like that. Neither of us are monsters

You and I are better off without each other.
If we stay together, we’ll only hurt one another

There’s a reason objects burn up when they fall to earth like gruesome angels—a reason other than the obvious one. Asteroids the size of armored cars narrow to mere pebbles in a matter of seconds. It’s because the planet is a carnivore and just wants to be fed. People want that as well. People like to eat other people.
I spent so many years forgetting I had teeth, too.

I think all of us feel empty most of the time and we merely pretend to fill the vacuum with laughter, crying, apologies—anything to make us feel human.