when I'm out in public, I'm constantly wondering if I'm creating the optimal environment for someone to be entranced by me.

the all-consuming melancholy

with armfuls of chips and coffee.

my ghoulish figure is a present from depression - the bittersweet blessing that is grief and loss.

I'm a mortician preparing a corpse dreaming about the pretentious criterion film with subtitles I'll watch later.

feels like someone pulling the bones out of your body, after a long day of highfalutin coffee-shop-bumming.

neurodivergence, trauma, and negative core beliefs contribute to my own feelings of unbelonging.

I am striving not only to survive, but to grow.

and I'm scared because of blah-blah-blah.

why didn't you laugh at my joke? are you mad?

I don't know, I don't know.

I am not being abandoned.