Sometimes I Forget How To Exist When I'm Not Being Perceived. How Should I Be? How Should I Hold Myself?

sometimes i forget how to exist when i'm not being perceived. how should i be? how should i hold myself?

i actually don't know if i loved you. i think i might have loved how much you loved me.

i didn't mean to overthink things. i just make up stories sometimes, like how amazing you are in my head. those thoughts aren't always good thoughts. those thoughts aren't always good thoughts.

you left your things here and i hold them sometimes.

if you called me i would still pick up. but i don't think i could love you. not how you want me to at least.

abigail morris photographed by cal mcintyre

i tell myself i've gotten better i like to believe it

yet the stash of blades hasn't left that spot in my room

i hesitate to dispose of them and that in itself tells me im lying to myself

“you make love like a woman, yes, you do. then you ache like a woman, yes, you do. but you break like a little girl.”

just like a women - live at sin-é, new york, ny - july/august 1993 by jeff buckley

here's the thing. this rage isn't for you. but you have soft skin and kind eyes.

i'm afraid you'll see through me.

and if you keep staring i'm afraid you'll see in me everything my father saw in my mother.

and every part of her he saw in me.

i don't want someone to look at me like that. i don't want you to look at me like that.

i want you to love me without knowing me. i want you to see me without looking.