I over extended myself today. I did the “charismatic, humorous, energetic, scornful” thing far too long and in the face of my guts being peeled raw, I still fought to keep image.

I am exhausted.

All I want is to be banished *banished* to a an underground cave in Russia with no one but my pathetic ass and a fiiinee older woman around for leagues.

She’ll stroke my head and continually whisper:

“You’ve been a good boy. You can rest now”

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lmao i don’t know what the fuck this is. i remember the day very well. i’d spent the whole day with my crush and i did too much… had too much personality, was too witty, you know? things did not flow with tenderness. when i got home i felt so tired and embarrassed for my own sake.

i remember i wrote this for the purpose of posting it. when i write so people can see, it always yields the most insincere results. sometimes, till today, i’ve posted a poem in my mind before writing it, then i usually never do because it turns out horrible.

i like that line about my guts being peeled raw. i also hate it because it’s exactly what 2020 me would write: visceral and hollow and commanding of one of the senses but none of the emotions. reading the line makes me feel very tired. i had many like that.

i think i’m judging myself a bit too harshly. this was never meant to be a literary piece. i wrote it so he would know i was sorry for being so cringe.