the broken record

So willfully I subject myself to these hopes.

Why can't I let my brain take control?
Why does my heart do this?
Doesn't it learn?
Doesn't it remember?

I need Psalms.

resolute

Tomorrow (though I guess technically given the hour, later today) I am going to get my tattoo.

More so, I will be going by myself, which is probably fitting anyway.

It would be nice and beyond wonderful to have a hand to hold, and as for much as I would like there to be a hand to hold, I don't need a hand to hold.

This acknowledgment is an acknowledgment of truth. Truth that makes me a little bit sad, because I feel like I will be sealing a fate tomorrow.

Oh, how I like those symbolic gestures and rituals of hidden meaning.

And ample vagueness.

the night I ripped the teal bracelet off

I just ripped the teal bracelet off. It was harder than I thought and it even hurt a little.

Me and my symbolic gestures. Even if they only hold meaning to me, at least it's absence will remind me.

Why don't I learn? I should be a cynic ten times over, but no, I keep going.

Is there a point where hope in a hopeless situation becomes a liability?

It stings a little, but I know that I'll be right back in this same place again and again, even if I try to avoid it, it won't let me. It's the same course I've followed time and time again.