I pretend I'm a writer when I'm not pretending I'm a rockstar. Both of these things may or may not take place in front of the bathroom mirror.
You probably have no idea what my posts are about, and that's the way I like it. True art fails to yield to analysis.
Self-indulgent biography, attempt at humor, pseudo-intellectual Nietzsche quote, etc. etc. etc.
Post with 1 note
Companion v 3.0: Admiration Apparation
Unreal… that’s a good word for it. You’re a figment of my imagination, but you’re right in front of me, silencing my expectations like a constant sonic boom. Even my realest dreams pale in comparison, my artist’s mind untrained in designing perfection.
Some self-absorbed scholar probably said that the road to happiness doesn’t come with a map, but I never needed one. Directions are irrelevant; this aimless path led me to you and I still don’t even know where the hell I am. We can fully dismiss the possibility of departure on those terms alone.
Much like finding the desert’s famous lake mirage to be real, this is refreshment, only in the form of companionship [I’ve been more than thirsty for this.]
Give me one good reason to stop reminding you that you’re amazing and I’ll give you a thousand more terms for it.
-
jodyzim liked this
-
eatmichaelfirst posted this
