I am so damn tired. Slightly itchy. A bit hyper.

My brain feels like mush, but is filled with words, poetry, love, and so much hate.

I hate myself. I love myself. I feel nothing, gods I feel everything.

Sometimes I just want to be a gentle philosopher. Most days I want to be a savage beast.

Most days I just want to fucking scream, and never stop.

I don’t feel like I deserve much of anything.

I want everything. I need it, so badly it hurts.

I want to have sex with every woman I see, I also want to curl up in a ball and not be touched by a single human being on this planet until I die.

I want love so badly, and to love someone else so deeply that to be away from them for just a moment is like a knife to the gut, twisting it’s way so deep into me that all there is is pain.

I want to be strong, independent, and not need anyone at all.

It’s all there, mixed up like some potion in a book.

Chaotic, confusing, terrifying. So many contradicting emotions.

Just so much FEELING.  

That’s the rush though isn’t it? All of that, stuffed into your damn head, thrumming through your veins, pulsing in and out.

It’s wondrous. If you just think it through, it will fill you with awe.

It’s fucking magic this thing we call life. To be here, at this time and place, alive, for no other reason than to just..BE.

Fucking MAGIC.

Don’t let yourself forget that.

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