The philosophy of my thoughts

a bird in Scandinavia

It was as if the world held in its breath and was on the verge of shutting down.

On the verge of choking and leaving itself to fall beneath its surface and stop.

It was as if my mind knew that I would sit here and go through this alone, today, tomorrow, and yesterday.

Leaving me to pity me in this empty bathroom of mirrors. Showing me myself every fucking second of the day, to remember who I am. To remember that I am me, what I did and will do is apart of who I am.

However, I cannot help it. I cannot help it to shed these salty tears. Over a salty topic, that should be buried underneath the layers of my pain, love, and aching mind. Aching of its own thoughts being spoon-fed to it every breathing minute of my fucking life.

It's so tiresome to constantly feel every little thing, every stone, every bird killed. It feels like a river flowing through my eyes. A portal of salty watery yet, sharp knives. Cutting my face, with their own reason to escape. Trying to leave this salty body.

Bloody Tears of the conception of you. How dare you? How dare you is all I repeat. Hoping that I can make some sense of this heartache, that is not getting up and leaving like you.

You wander and then you show up on these misty and lonely nights. Who are you to think you have that power over my mind. You are a creation, a mere fabrication of a false narrative. Yet, you eat up my heart like a hungry bear feeding on its prey.

You engulf yourself in my life embracing me with your blanket of tenderness but leave like a bird seeking warmth in the cold Scandinavian winters.

Xoxo a smart intellectual