internet angel fallen

⋆ ₒ_ₜₒᵦₑᵣ ₁ ₂₀₂₄

I miss the club. I want to feel the walls quake from the bass. I remember a foreign woman coming up to me while I was dancing, saying I looked like a mermaid on acid. I was completely sober. I just wanted to keep moving—non-stop—until the line between my body and the music disappeared. Heaven is a place on Earth, and it’s at the center of the dance floor.

Now I’m hibernating. My life is becoming more tangible, tactile. I’ve been tailoring every detail of my digital life. I changed the font on Tumblr to make it nonsense. My YouTube has no comments, no recommendations, no homepage. I’ve traded streaming for MP3s. Algorithms are overrated. My friends know my tastes better than anyone else. No one gets into my life without my consent.

It’s funny. I’ve finally achieved virtual independence, but I feel so lonely. I want an earth lover. Skin that wrinkles overtime. The hunger for love festers and feeds until I’m growling. I want to love so deeply, but I don’t trust a soul. Stop suggesting me. Quit eye-fucking me. This box you’re forcing me into keeps me cold. I can’t see the angels among the cowards. The truth struggles to breathe. I keep feeling like someone is watching me, but I can’t tell who they are. I can love an angel, but I’ll never fuck a coward. I hate being your fantasy. Just let me go. Why keep yourself from something real to stay in the comfort of the corner? I hate being forced into such an awkward position.

When things are fine, I start to focus on what I’m lacking. It’s a predicament. At least I’m at peace. I love this kind of quiet. The future feels pregnant with potential.