Let me not even beat around the bush, the first song, Fortnight (ft. Post Malone) is my favourite song, I love it!
Living is hard and I've realised that most of the time when we say we want to start living, we're basically just making ourselves follow an aesthetic or some weird lay down rule which defeats the purpose.
I was just moving and not thinking and it wasn't bad. It means I've been thinking less (to an extent).
I'm not sure I'm ready to hope or dream about anything, I'm too tired and angry for that, but when I'm ready, I think this is what I'll ask myself.
It's really amazing that I can write and have people write back to me, it blows my mind, sometimes.
It doesn't matter whether, in my head, I think I'm not qualified to be here, what's important is that I'm here and I have to do what is required of me.
To overcome my fear, I shackled myself with hope, its links heavier than any metal known to man.
I’m trying something new: asking myself if the choice I want to make is matched with a consequence I can live with, instead of if it’s good or bad.
It's funny, but I always try, and it really disgusts me sometimes, it makes me so angry, but that's me, I guess.
I still can't get a grip on how a man (for that matter) can write about the struggles of women so honourably well. When I read that book, I cried and crode and wept and wupt.
A nostalgia I intentionally avoid has to be anything connected to high school or primary school, those bonds and memories you're supposed to make in those places.
There's something failing an exam does to you, especially when you think you tried, you start thinking “am I dumb?”, “am I just average?, “am I stupid?”. It messes with your head and everything.
