awakebutstillinbed
what people call low self​-​esteem is really just seeing yourself the way that other people see you

I observe the world from a cradle, my mother is not my real mother, and I decide it's time to cry.
The "mom" screams until she breaks down, yelling, gasping; she shatters my tears.

I keep repeating it and hope it becomes a hypnotic mantra: women who scream are better than men, in emo this is a fact.
Shannon yells until she throws up, Shannon hates minor skirmishes, mosquito bites, the untimely alarm; she hates everyone, I hate everyone too.

The night has an oppressive, noisy, and warm backlight: an annoyance hidden under granite anxieties, an itch that keeps jumping in every epithelial cell; internal and external.
The sudden stops are moments of vitality and it's not important to be prepared, the important thing is to always be yourself: a cliché phrase, but there are always more masks to remove and finding your face is a task to postpone, a task to procrastinate.

A throat on fire, a spirit to warm, feeling just moments away from being someone you've never been; is it me?
Maybe it's not you, maybe you just want to be another novelty for newly met people, maybe you want to be a novelty for yourself in relation to newly met people.
Maybe you want to get to know yourself a bit more, but there is never time.

For fans of Hotelier, Rainer Maria et similia.