As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.

Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.

being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions

I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.

It would be pleasant to be drunk.

Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.

Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.