I imagine a bullet would feel like a bite from a dragon; searing, sharp and quick.

My tumblr account is half dead, but the app still sends me notifications. It's such a dreamful realm, so much youth, full of raw confessions. The antithesis of 'adult.' I don't want to let that side die. I don't want to give in to expectations.

One of the most expensive cities in the world, San Francisco, withholds the luxury of air conditioning from it's residents. Luckily, SF summers peak at 75 degrees so we get by by sleeping with the windows open, shades drawn, and distant sirens singing us to sleep, forsaking our blankets and clothes. I feel exposed to the darkness. There is a childlike fear attached to the darkness that in the morning, feels absurd. But it's so real at night. I once immersed myself it in to try to find to root of the fear and I found it, rooted in memories I had suppressed–rooted in anger. My darkness is full of anger and heat.

writings before bed

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