it. is a tumblelog.

merde.

i’m writing because it feels like my heart’s been yanked out of its place. i’ve never lost so much sleep or worked so hard, and the thing is, rationally-speaking, it’s not that bad at all.

but i’ve tried, you know? pushing myself to prove something… right now i don’t even know what that is. it feels a lot like failure. it hurts. and i don’t know how to pick myself up.