Me wen am hight
Me when I realize that I killed nearly everyone in the entire world and fused their souls into a bleeding radioactive sphere, nobody trusts me, everyone wants to use me for their own purposes or wants me dead, and the girl I tried to protect by accidentally bringing about near-apocalypse is dead, and I’ve been trying to fuck her clone, which is a clone of a clone of my dead mom whose soul is residing in the giant bio-mechanical angelic death machine that I used to kill everyone, and I just wanna go back and play gay piano with my alien boyfriend, but I missed the recital and he’s probably disappointed because I’m high.
i used to be so weirded out by the fact that everyone takes notes in pen in college because that seems so permanent right, what if you mess up a word, youll have to scribble it out and live with ugly notes
now that i write in pen i realize that i no longer have the strength of will to push down a pencil hard enough to make legible marks. im literally too dead inside to use a pencil. pen is the only way to make proof of my existence at this point