(she said that sometimes we need to hurt, and that's okay)
if there is a god (not that there certainly is, but if for a moment we believed it), then maybe god is an elderly woman with kind wrinkles and a knowing smile, a familiar scent of home and nostalgia, a cup of tea between her hands. if there is a god, she is listening, observing, embracing. you’re speaking to her. you vomit out your life in front of her — full of shame, embarrassment, the occasional pride.
you are shrouded by self-pity these days. it’s getting dangerous, the amount of self-absorbed isolation you’re drowning in, indulgently, in the full glory of life’s terribleness. you are slowly isolating yourself from your friends, blindly hurting others through careless words that stem from insecurity. they’re small changes — barely noticeable, but with several months’ time, the world has shifted its tone towards you — it’s defensive, cautious. you’re something they are careful about. you feel a sense of loneliness waft up from the gaps in the flooring.