bad advice.

drink the rest of what’s left of the bottle of sangria.

sure, pour a glass of that pineapple wine, too. no, not a tv show/movie pour. they only do that so they can stave off their protagonist’s burgeoning alcoholism that’ll come into play at the eleventh hour. pour a hearty glass. a glass that won’t have you pouring a second. 


it’s easier when you’re drunk. you think you can hold it off like when you’re sober, but you can’t. one lyric in that one kehlani song will have you sobbing into your pink carpet and five minutes later you’ll get over it. not the thing that had you crying in the first place. but the crying. it will come and go as easy as breathing. or maybe hiccups. 

text them. 

forget that they haven’t responded to your last message. tell them whatever you’ve left unsaid. whatever has been weighing you down. maybe they won’t answer you for an hour or more. maybe they won’t ever answer you. but say it anyway.

Published by sacriluna

manic pixie mythic bitch.

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