“Monsters don’t sleep under your bed. They sleep inside your head.”
Why do people do the same shit and expect a different outcome? Do you think anyone intentionally likes to fuck things up for themselves? Repeating destructive patterns and hoping for something good but never actually receiving it?
It’s a behaviour, a pattern, a comfort zone. What world do we know if we, as self-destructive human beings, don’t have pain? Self-inflicted pain, physical and emotional. I’m resting on a nest full of dark stories. The mediocrity of life is making me want to stand at the edge of a mountain and yell. I want someone to yell at. I want someone to listen to me when I scream.