Ray

About me:

Time has proven that fooling yourself into believing a lie Is the most effective way to deal with things You have no control over Keep listening to the mixtapes they made you Overanalyze every single word you hear Was this a sign that things were going wrong? No, no, you were the one that cared too hard, not them Stay up every single night staring at your phone Either attempting to gather up the courage to turn these demons These constant reminders of your loneliness Into nothing more than a bad dream Or praying just for one second You could feel the warmth of equally returned love Go out for coffee four times a week by yourself Always bring your notebook, never stop writing Leave little comics and thank you notes with your tip Watch them smile as you get in your car Talk down on yourself whenever possible My life is shit because I deserve it, right? You must have done something really bad It's nearly impossible for you to cry now Avoid your friends for weeks even though They're the only sense of consistency you have left in your life If they really wanted to see you they'd come, but they won't Who cares? Allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love Watch as you begin to take a backseat To the world around you, don't fight it Become a secondary character in your own motion picture But most importantly Drown every single one of your feelings in old stolen rum Learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat Find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach You're drinking bottled love now You don't need other people to drive away your loneliness You just needed to find a way to talk to it. The song "How to Never Stop Being Sad" by dandelion hands is a poignant exploration of sorrow and isolation. It's described as a dive into the intricate labyrinth of isolation, offering a candid monologue of one's intimate journey through the shadows of desolation¹. The lyrics are a stark portrait of sorrow, resonating with listeners who've experienced the tightrope between comfort in solitude and the aching for connection

Who I'd like to meet: