I just wanna know why I’m never enough, why my love is never enough, why my efforts are never enough, why my hugs are never enough, why my kisses on forehead are never enough, why my flowers are never enough, why my words are never enough, why my smile is never enough.
And I just wanna know why my pain is always too much
You fell in love with my flowers but not with my roots, so when Autumn arrived you didn’t know what to do.
Depression in summer is weird. It’s not dark and brooding, for me - it’s white and hazy and confusing. You feel very absent from everyone and everything. And all the light seems a little too bright for your tired eyes.
The cigarettes you light one after another won’t help you forget her.
“A un cuore in pezzi, nessuno s'avvicini, senza l'alto privilegio, di avere sofferto altrettanto.”
- Emily Dickinson: Sillabe Di Seta
bugigat-tolo
da quando ho imparato a fare il tiramisù ho rimesso in discussione tutto quanto, partendo da chi dice “eeeh so fare un tiramisù troppo buono, la fine del mondo”, grazie al cazzo, vorrei un cane con il pollice opponibile per dimostrare che letteralmente chiunque con gli ingredienti alla mano potrebbe farlo e sarebbe sempre ottimo, sempre, questa è una metafora del mondo che non mi va di spiegare
