it’s been a while.
and if you’re here… you’ve probably come from elsewhere.

i thought about privating & deleting all my entries.
but… what do i have to hide? my humanity? my soul? the bits and pieces of me the meat market never considers?

i won’t be writing on here anymore.
it’s a sad and sweet collection of a girl in her twenties trying to get it right and continuously missing the mark.

i’m glad that’s behind me now.
and if you’re wondering what changed it all…

it’s pretty simple.

i stopped giving a fuck.
i stopped caring about what everyone else wanted for me.

not yours,

a very sober & stable (finally) Slayhil

why do i still want to make it work

pick up the pieces, click erase

blur out the past, slow down the pace

you never were a rehabilitation center for me

but god damn, you did something to me

and now it’s floating off into space

love slowly dying as it dissipates

did you kiss me on the cheek often in a past life?

did you make me something close to a wife?

do you feel this too?

people tell me there’s more to life than romantic love, people tell me to move on, to leave you alone

and i do, but fuck, i still want you

it could still be true

i seem to shake the miss you blues

i’m not bitter, no
and i know, i know, i know
it’s nothing special
you paint the same canvas over and over again
you don’t bother to change your palette
you don’t bother to switch your paints
and the strokes seem gentle,
only the subject knows how harshly you pressed on them
and only you know how you’ve stained my skin
it hurts, surely
but i’d rub myself raw all over again,
if it meant i’d rid myself of you
no color, no fever, no sin