always cold

it's me. it's always been me. 

i've always been talking about myself because i'm the only character i'm capable of developing. 

here i am, i have nightmares and i still hope you'll text me as often as i think about you. i drink my coffee with milk and cinnamon. i am always cold. i dress like an adult. i wear lipstick. my hair is weird. i can't see very well. i watch all the movies you like and i sneak your social media profiles in case you manage to like me. 

i thought i could beat anxiety but it seems like it never wanted to leave me. 

i don't think i could be someone else. 

i don't think i could handle yet another universe.

oops, i fell

silence is not a waste of time, i guess. but it is to mix with the silence of others. they fill it with words to make up for their lack of passion. the fill it with words to make me feel less like a failure. but you don't need to explain yourself. silence is overruling us, but it won't choke, it won't break us. it will make us. and it will teach me to take my time.

i promise some day i'll learn to wait in line.