glory! : i luv the valley, oh!

washer

Goodnight my love Remember me as you fall to sleep Fill your pockets with the dust and the memories That rises from the shoes on my feet I won't be back here Though we may meet again I know it's dark outside Don't be afraid Everytime I ever cried from fear Was just a mistake that I made Wash yourself in your tears And build your church On the strength of your faith Please Listen to me Don't let go Don't let this desperate moonlight leave me With your empty pillow Promise me the sun will rise again I too am tired now Embracing thoughts of tonight's dreamless sleep My head is empty My toes are warm I am safe from harm...

Friday, February 16, 2024

i luv the valley, oh!

haii hai :3 hai haii hai :3

i am currently in neuro class i am suffering and i am losing my mind i am tired i am weary i could sleep for a thousand years a thousand dreams that would awake me different colors made of tears

saturday classes area actually going to kill me im not even like kidding my free days are wednesday and sunday and nobodys free on tuesday to play i cant stay up on wednesday to play and sunday is for gloomy feelings not fun with friends.

as i have said i understand the impulsion to do heroin I WONT but i understand why someone would do that i only would if i were dying but not WHEN im dying. like the days before just so i can live it. but. i want to be sober and awake when i die and i want it to be semi slow (10 minutes) but not super gruesome (want an open casket funeral as soon as possible after death) maybe just like peaceful and mostly painless but i do want to be awake. i dont want to pass in my sleep or of old age. i want to die at about 28. i think its a good age to go for someone like me. at least that would be the case if i was a superstar which i deserve but i wont be one. maybe one day people will find me music projects and i will become so successful and so ingrained into the public subconsciousness that everyone will know my name and face and art without seeking it out.

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sylvia plath, the bell jar

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Psalm 18: 6-11

In my distress I called upon the Lord, And cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple, And my cry came before Him, even to His ears. Then the earth shook and trembled; The foundations of the hills also quaked and were shaken, Because He was angry. Smoke went up from His nostrils, And devouring fire from His mouth; Coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down With darkness under His feet. And He rode upon a cherub, and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters And thick clouds of the skies.