so much for being 23, to think that there is still in me that angst, envy, drama loving mind of a 14 year old

a rotten heart that can only assume the worst of others

a tongue so sharpened only waiting to be dipped in the blackest ink to spit out the ugliest words about friends and enemies alike

a mind so miserable that i constantly choose to ignore my desperate conscience

just basking in negativities, relentlessly, until im too blind to discern the dimming heart that is aching for just a little bit of light, a little bit of strength, just a little bit before it is too late, before she is no longer

just pitch black.

like a black hole that engulfs anything and everything, good or bad, what even is the difference anymore