Reblog If You Think It’s Okay To Platonically Say “I Love You” To Your Friends

How to catch me

This is soo real. Internet friends are a blessing in disguise.

Having internet friends is an experience. Did you eat today? I can’t believe your sister hasn’t apologized yet, what a bitch. Drink a glass of water right now. Want to see a cat picture? I love you. I know you better than your parents. I don’t know your name. I’m having a rough day, can you talk to me about your favorite videogame? I love you. Good morning means good night means good afternoon means go to sleep. Here’s a doodle I made in class. I’m stealing your clothes as we speak, they’re so pretty. I love you. I love your pet. What does your hair look like? I’d love to see that weird leaf. I love you. I’m making you your favorite food. Thank you for holding my secrets for me. I love you. We’re having a coffe date. I love you. I’m giving you a screen-sized hug. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I am trying to convince myself.

It ain't fault.

It wasn't my fault.

I couldn't run. I just couldn't.

I wish i had though.

I wish i was brave like they all think.

I Wish i wasn't a coward.

I don't know .i swear i don't.

— Virginia Woolf

i guess I understand

why they all leave.

i am hard to love

“I understand. That’s the trouble. I understand. I’ll understand all the time. All day and all night. Especially all night. I’ll understand. You don’t have to worry about that.”

— Ernest Hemingway

Identity

Who am I, if not a poet? What am I, if not a writer? What is my existence, And what is my purpose?

How do I relieve myself of these emotions, If not by bleeding myself on paper? How do I express myself to the world, If not by baring myself for everyone to see? What is my comfort, if not being vulnerable with words? Where do I go, if not to pen and paper? To whom do I share my happiness, sadness, My sorrows, and guilt? Where do I let out my anger, Before it turns me cold and sharp? Where do I pour out the storm, Before it drowns me? Tell me, what do I do, If not write?

Who am I, if not a poet? What am I, if not a writer? What is my existence, And what is my purpose?

©Pen_Pain_Poetry