Fuck.

Fuck nobility and taking the high road. People wouldn’t believe me if I told them how much of a personal hell July was for me. The only thing I’ve had today is water and broth- it’s the only thing I can keep on my stomach- but I feel so god damn nauseated every time her face pops into my head that I wish I could eat more just for the melodramatic purpose of throwing up.

I tried to consolidate my bitter feelings and compartmentalize them, squeeze them into a tiny marble to fester in my soul, but it’s impossible to bottle up years of betrayal from someone I barely know. It seems that every time things are going well, her name comes up in conversation and I know that somewhere, she’s doing the best she can to see me squirm.

No more of this.

I don’t know if I can handle one more person telling me how high of an opinion she has of herself, or how much of a slag she thinks I am. Fact: her ex is with me. He has been with me for four years. Fact: she has proven over time that she’s not much more than a slutty shit-talker that takes every opportunity to try and outshine me.

I’m done thinking about her. This is my catharsis, my closing statement.

I hope your words are sweeter than honey, cunt, because next time you see me, you’ll be fucking eating them.

"There is nothing noble in being superior to some other person. The true nobility is in being superior to your previous self."

airplanes in the night sky ♫♪

I profess that I have never been a huge fan of rap. But every once in a while, I get suggestions from friends to listen to various top hits, because they think there’s a lyrical twist or a piano overtone that I will much enjoy.

Airplanes pt II surprised the absolute fuck out of me.

Ever heard a song that takes you up, out of your chair or your bed or your perch at the window, and displaces you in time and space, to a different time when you were a different you- a you that was scared and vulnerable…?

That song is exactly this to me. When I hear it, I can close my eyes and see an airport terminal. I look down and see sand-colored combat boots; my good pair, mind you- I didn’t want to go home with discolored soles from mud and grass. My uniform is crisp and clean, my hair pulled back so tight I can feel my eyebrows are a little higher.

I shoulder my massive, olive green pack and walk alone through a sea of people. I have no idea that I’m coming home to heartbreak and a sea of unacceptance. What I do know is that a new chapter has begun, and past this point there’s no turning back.

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now.