i’m haunted by the sound of the falling sand in an invisible hourglass

looking at my long, painted nails reminds me of the time when i thought i’d never stop biting my nails so i now have reinforced hope on this sobriety thing

here’s the deal: i write you beautiful nothings and you give me nothing beautiful

the moment is like a glass egg decorated in diamonds or is it more like a phoenix constantly dying and rebirthing by time’s will or is that too much

at this point i don’t care if i graduate as long as i do what i love before the sand runs out

watching cars drive gives me anxiety—thought i’d share

i became tired of waiting for my flowers so i started planting my own

i wonder if my lungs would ever truly heal or is it too late—i wonder if i would know when the sand would ever truly run out before it’s too late

dreaming of a white christmas bugs me and i’m not sorry

Natalie told me veracity is the word of the day and i couldn’t agree more

i’m getting to the age where i’m realizing that family is a social construct and i can pick and choose who i want in my life—i hope this unlocks some peace

i don’t know if this is poetry or madness—but i’ll keep writing until the sand runs out

i might not cover up the rest of my scars with ink and i think that’s okay

Ocean Vuong taught me time is a mother and i felt that

i’m tired of making people cry with my tongue so i hope you’re smiling—i bet it’s beautiful

last night i told Kayla that i have had this recurring dream about the hourglass and my last words are always her name

generosity is so pretty

i believe it would be beyond beautiful if once the sand runs out i would be the same way i was born: small yet larger than myself, crying yet weirdly at peace, surrounded by loved ones

i’ve been thinking about my wedding more—so everything is going to be okay

do you hear the falling sand?