I really do think that it’s good for the soul to be unironically pretentious about something. Not in a gatekeeping kind of way but in a “yes, it really is that deep and I would love to enthusiastically and passionately explain why” kind of way.
I do not find peace in my melancholy.
My sadness is not serene.
I am bloodthirsty.
(alone after sunset on a sunday) Does anyone love me
will you please take my whimsical ass seriously



