I’ll practice and practice, and one day, I’ll write you a sonnett. Unrequited love really is the best fuel for art. Why do I waste so much time typing petty nonsense to you or trying to win you over on this toilet site when I could be channeling all this pain into art. It’s clear you don’t want me, and you want me out of your life forever. Thats f****** awful and makes me want to kill myself,execpt it’s literally ALL my fault. I never thought of the poetry I’d be able to write once I started to come to terms with how horrible reality is compared to my daydream world.