This was meant to mean something profound about heartbreak but I forgot. Seems odd to not remember something I felt so intensely.

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Only the white trilogy left. I wish I could justify buying another one of these MD paper journals but they're so expensive. They're my favourite though.

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There are these app now that look like my childhood spent taking pictures of myself cause I had no one to take them for me. Like sunburnt facades of nostalgia made cool, I'm missing a lie of an abroad vacation and those she
ll necklaces the pretty girls wore when a boy told me I'd look good with highlights. I'm still taking pictures of myself and taking boys comments to heart and I try not to lie, but a poets tongue shines like a filter and smooths me out

The Glass Piano

The metaphor isn't very deep, but I was reading about the glass delusion and Princess Alexandra Amalie of Bavaria. The glass delusion seemed to favour privileged people of high standing, causing them to think they would shatter if touched.

Finally listened to the last music of Leonard Cohen the other day. Cohen who I discovered with my grandmother's cassetes, songs of love and hate, whos words I've still not gotten tattooed on my skin but is tattooed on my heart.

I wrote this in 2017

Throwback to this good look I had 7 years ago, in case anyone thought I wasn't always a pretentious boheme poet

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