ᝰ 𝒮𝚢𝚍 .

so why do i still feel so goddamn inferior?

i can hold a grudge like it’s a hand.

ᅠ⁣ 🔪 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗍͟𝖾͟𝖾͟𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂’𝗆 ( 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 ) 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿.

all my grief says the same thing: this isn't how it's supposed to be. this isn't how it's supposed to be. and the world laughs, holds my hope by the throat and says 'but this is how it is.'

⠀ ( 𝓽he patisserie knows such feelings ——— thus , she’s .. here . settled , perfecting one particular truffle and a creme brûlée . always working . she’s walked in on her 𝗉͟𝖾͟𝗋͟𝖿͟𝖾͟𝖼͟𝗍͟𝗂͟𝗇͟𝗀 ) ⠀

appreciate it, really. sorry for the .. outburst, trying to control it.

have fun scraping my brains off the walls, FUCK YOU!

it tasted like salt and failure. the bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of our path, the steps to the porch. my heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout.

( it’s not fine. )