pillow forts

okay, in joining those that i love, you’ve been made aware of my unfortunate habit of miscommunication. though, instagram has seen a similar amount of me and we know how i feel about that. wasn’t in a great spot last time i wrote, not exactly internet worthy. infamously said in the social network (i think), you shouldn’t type angry. though i’m pretty sure zuckerburg is a billionaire, couldn’t tell you if he still feels guilty about that thing with erica. don’t even know if that was her real name, not sure if it’s more respectful to say or not say her name. i know you shouldn’t type angry but can you type existential? there’s been a lot of that going around lately. but no one EVER regrets the existential thoughts they had as a teenager right? especially if they publicised them right? the caps is supposed to be an indicator of sarcasm by the way. i’ve found myself very guilty of the preface lately as well, even in person. is there a way to love yourself whilst also caring extremely deeply what everyone thinks of you? eh. even self help/care culture has become toxic now, it’s like either care about everyone or no one but yourself. is there anything without unhealthy contents? i guess not. that’s always been my problem. keep waiting out for that ever-spanning contentment and good that’s never coming. depressing. don’t want to end on that note. i guess i’m learning that there are cold sides to every place where the sun shines. one doesn’t exist without the other. i used to run when the going got tough a lot but i’m getting better at it. as i’m getting older i feel my room to run getting infinitely smaller and smaller. still like some space but ill-decorated in a way that makes it hella complicated to manoeuvre. either way, before that room gets inevitably stuffed with the abundance of responsibilities i’m procuring by the day (intentionally or unintentionally), i’m trying to learn love for the spot i’m in. maybe build a little pillow fort.