Suffering is beauty

i had this whole schtick when I was in school about how tragedy was beautiful and all pain was the purest way to experience the gorgeous reality of humanity or whatever. Normal kid stuff, encouraged heavily by my melodramatic mother. My whole family loves that “wear your suffering as a badge of honour” shit. 

Turns out I’m still like that. Except now I love the pain for pain’s sake. Like it’s not my strength to soldier on that’s cool; it’s the way it hurts while I’m doing it. 

 

ugh mahm ur so emo

i dont have any pix of sex-induced injuries on my phone anymore, so here’s sarang looking particularly done with my introspective shit


So I’m not really sure what that means. But I found some depressing videos of The Asteroid post-fire and now I have a 55oz glass of 45%wine and the rest% ice and ginger ale and I’m just ready for anything else my room can throw at me. 

Also, physical pain is so much better than emotional pain. If I get drunk enough tonight – which is likely cuz I have zero interesting food and 5 interesting wine – you can expect a really embarrassing and way too open story about Michael Potiska – you know, that boy I fell in love with last winter?

Holla for wtnv references and a possible return to my old blogging ways. 

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