wewritewespeak:

hello, they call me socially awkward. my names are vain and lies. i live on the corner of deceit and shame. my silver tongue pushes words at the speed of verb, often littered with half-truths crafted at temperatures below reality. sometimes they call me disappointment, because i can never deliver. gifting the world with a symphony of stars, all of which fall to the ground in a crash of octaves. in celestial reminiscence i dispense my lyrical reverence, to spread my progeny amongst the fallen. preaching hypocritical lessons of shedding the skin of disappointment, i am what i preach to avoid. it’s a red letter day for retribution, a chance at a trip into infinity. your window of opportunity grows smaller as the size of the window they look at you through shrinks. in padded rooms, dressed in long sleeved jackets, where your food is pushed through a slot; everyone is insane but you. we aren’t so different, you and i.

(via catherine-ponce)