if i could have a superpower i’d wanna be able to make my perfect pizza appear out of thin air whenever and wherever the hell i please like i could be standing in the shower dissecting every aspect of my life and then BAM a box of white sauce pizza with black olives, jalapenos, feta cheese with a garlic/parm crust appears and makes my showering experience so much more heavenly 

i don’t understand people that don’t like nutella it’s heaven in a dandy lil jar you open it up and scoop some up with yr index finger and you insert it in yr mouth and it’s the best thing to ever grace yr tongue it’s so incredibly satisfying 

I am the silly one.
Breathing heavily,
Sighing efficiently,
Sleeping irregularly,
Caffeinating alone.

Traces of care still
Being discovered in here.

I am the silly one
To believe I’m happy,
To refrain from letting go,
To attach too tightly,
Slipping off, going under. 

Still, heart cool as cucumber.
Mind at peace as Lennon speaks.
Body prepared to dream of you
In dance or in walk or 
Simply while showering. 

Words spread.
I am the silly one. 

Define me, you.
Am I the first yawn
Of yours at 3am?
Speak to me, you.
Are the bags under 
your eyes painted by me?
Try to comprehend, you.
Has the colour of my 
face spilled the secret yet?

Blue is both sad and joy.
Pink is a slur to my structure.
Blue are the words I write now
and also the ones I speak under
my slate grey breath.
Pink is visible to everyone,
but I hope you see the shade I adore.

Love me, you.
Am I asking for too much?
I’ll answer that, and I probably am.
Speak of me, you.
Does my name make a sound
every now and then on your lips?
I’ll answer that, too, and maybe not.
Read me, you.
Are your eyes clutching onto this
final thread of my piece?

Will I have to answer this one too?

I drag myself here into my room
My mind bouncing off the walls
so I really cannot place my finger
on whether I love you or really do not
 
My uniform covered with particles
of cornmeal mixing well with sweat
It’s a usual sort of exhaustion lived
But I still won’t let you down don’t fret
 
This not-so-tiny but a perfect amount
of space where I rewrite teary eyes
beet face morbid grace and reverbalize
what I should tell you what I should hide
 
This is my usual routine not a dream
I live up this mundane hour the day
where months catch up just in time
to remind me you are happy I’ll be frayed

Spare me this hurtful fest
That you’ve so kindly lined up
For me to experience.

The venue that you’ve chosen
A shy coffeehouse amidst chaos
The one only the creative and 
Truthful listeners lounge in
They are the audience you fancy
The jokes the fool I am you enhance me. 

The tunes that you’ve written
Down on a piece of weak napkin
Almost torn to core speaking your heart
I was the silence you needed to rip apart.

Your existence is the worst of all
Because as much as I hurt all places
You sing with a voice I’ve called my lullaby
The touch you set on top of my skin
Is felt miles beneath the bones of mine

The things you’ve said hurt me not
As much as your action of denying
That you’ve felt nothing for my existence

The way you deny me though
I’ve got to commend you for the
Beauty you provide for my ears
The truth for my soul and the pain
To let my heart balance out the two

watching kuch kuch hota hai. will most likely end up bawling my eyes out. why do i do this to myself? sigh. this film is perfect perfect perfect okay