My friend called me a witch, and a witch is magical. So if I’m a witch, than do I have magical powers?

I replied to my friend and called her a ghost, but ghost can spy, so is she a secret undercover spy?

Ps, I know this is terrible, it just went with the prompt…

She told me I was a dog. A dog is cute. So I am cute?

Falling makes you hit your head. Hitting your head hurts. So falling for you means I’ll get hurt, bad. Then why does it feel so good? Every second I’m around you, all my worries float away, as if they were never there in the first place. And as soon as you walk away, the weight comes back and sits right on my shoulders. It’s as if you pick it up for a minute without even flinching, like you’re some goofy, happy, super strong superhero who came to rescue me. Maybe you’ll carry me in your arms, away from the rest of the world, fly to the unknown—or maybe you’ll drop me, let me fall, hit my head and die.

I love candy! Candy is unhealthy. So I must be unhealthy right? Yet I do everything I should. I exercise, I eat my vegetables, I have a good sleep pattern going. What am I doing wrong? I mean yeah eating candy probably isn’t the best thing to do when I’m trying to stay fit, but it’s not like I do it every day. Maybe once a week tops.

But as I stand here before the mirror and look at my gaunt figure, I have to wonder if it’s not the candy, what am I doing wrong?

I get scared at night time When I’m scared bad things happen So bad things must happen at night? This is the truth I concluded.

People say praying is good Being good gets you what you want So praying will give me what I want! An answer.

No one else can see what’s going on in my head If you can’t see it it isn’t there So this doesn’t exist, I’m faking.

All these assumptions Lies you told me Well I’m only making one assumption From now on

OCD is bad I am not OCD So I am not bad I’ve just made a few mistakes.

They say your life flashes before your eyes. I am currently on a train going who knows where, with a bunch of different versions of myself at a bunch of different ages of my life. So I must be dead, or at least dying.

Wanting is easy, Crossing a line ain’t supposed to be that easy, And here you are way past that fucking line. No one gets hurt? There is alway give and take… You watch…

People get butterflies when they’re in love. I get butterflies around her. So I must be in love with her? No, no, that can’t be right. I’m in love with him- it’s been four years since we got together, and I love him. But I still can’t shake the feeling I get around her. What does this mean? Can I love both, but neither at the same time? Do I love anyone? No, I love someone. I can feel it, and I know the feeling. But who do I love? Her, or him? Both? Neither? If I do love someone… how will I know who?

      With him, I feel warm. Like he is a blanket that will protect me from the world. He is comforting, and gentle. Being with him is summer evenings where you feel happy for no reason, winter mornings where hot chocolate chases away the snow. He is your bed after a long day, a hug when you are sad, clouds that look like perfect shapes. Days that are warm but not hot, chilly but not cold. He is freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and the comforting smell of home. He is everything sweet with a little bit of bitter as well, like you’ll miss him when he’s gone, but you don’t need him.

      With her, though… she is fireworks in the summer, bursts of color across a blank canvas. She is flames, heat, hot summer days where you feel alive. She is a burst of adrenaline and the quick beat of your heart, fast and exciting. She is the exhilarating feel of terror when you are almost caught the first taste of alcohol, night drives with blasting music. She is that guilty feeling of laughing at and making dirty jokes, the smirk of an inside bit of humor, the genuine laugh when someone says something funny. She is breathless, magic, sweet and spicy and sour all at once. She’s intoxicating, hard to leave and impossible to get over. 

      I love them both. In different ways. And that’s okay. Love is different for different people. He is more of a best friend that I can rely on anytime, and she is something special that will eventually settle down. Love is complicated, but it is also wonderful. There are so many kinds of it, sweet love, sour love, friend love, family love, fleeting love, eternal love, and more. But all of it is valid, and all of it is important. 
      Happy pride month all, and remember that all love is special, and to keep on loving, in whatever way works for you ❤️❤️

I’m friends with Mariam. Mariam’s friends with Claire. So I must be friends with Claire. But I’m not. I hate Claire.

Claire is a bitch. I can’t stand her. It’s hard to be friends with Mariam when she’s friends with Claire. No one is nice to Claire except Mariam. Everyone is nice to Mariam.

Mariam doesn’t actually like Claire. She is just a pushover. Her being a pushover gets annoying. That’s one thing Claire and I agree on.

Claire doesn’t want Mariam to be friends with me. I don’t want Mariam to be friends with Claire. Maybe I’m just as bad as Claire.

Sheep follow their masters to slaughter. Media pundits ransom the world for a dollar.

Scientists scream !!!!!📢 “The interconnectedness of things!” Oil companies lie, and the politicians buy, but, the truth stings 😱 🙀 ☠️

The Death of … Everything 🐻 🌳 🐰 🐠

Time to Awake 👊 🍃 🌊 It’s almost too late 😔

The world burns while you walk, asleep. 🔥

Who Are The Real Sheep?