"If you weren’t a dream, so far away, fictional, irreversibly immaculate, or made of the grandeur things of toxic thoughts, I’d be in love with you — or at least that’s what I try to meditate on to medicate the cravings. It has been too late for I am falling, less gracefully than an angel, but still descending into this self-made quicksand. I know what’s best for me, but I still want you instead."

— scatterbrained thoughts, 28

posted 1 year ago with 43 notes