Pretty Hurts

by HelluvaGirl

Sometimes I listen to my own pep talk of self-awareness, well-managed expectations and being cool about the universal flow that flows away from me, and think I’m just so full of it.

You often say I’m much more rational and composed than you but I suspect we both understand it’s mere etiquette and my #glassmountain

I have an imaginary crown that I keep straight most of the time. When it goes on the shelf, are the darkest moments under my eyes and the barest sight of my heart.

I want, I want some pill, some quick fix. I wish there was one on this glaring peak.

I wish I could put on heels so high to get me higher. I wish I was nothing, the grey nothingness I once was before cognition, feelings and self-discipline gave me form and identity. I wish I could rest from the way I see things. I wish I could stop singing without having a voice.

It surprises me so much when people talk about heaven and hell as some destination points when they are both here all the time, this very second, under the skin.

Well I just think you’ve got that something amazingly special /…/ not like you can put a name to it ’cause it hasn’t got one – it’s everything mysterious and not.

Do you ever think that maybe it’s not me at all? Do you ever think that something was before me and will outlast me?

If you say you keep seeing me in front of you, what is the reflection in my eyes?

It’s everything mysterious and not…