a.f. swanson
stories, poetry, and prose.
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drive
every night, he asks her the same question, and every night, she gives him the same answer.
but on a summer night like tonight, when she’s been pushed to the very edge of her waning patience for this fragile existence she calls a life, she’s thinking a drive is just what she needs to clear her head—even if it means getting into a car with the bane of her existence.“I’ll drive you home with the windows down.”
read me -
it’s late, go to sleep
it’s been a year.
life has gotten exponentially better since then, but i’m still so unhappy. it frustrates me that i’m so unhappy when everything points to things being alright.
read me -
i give the messiest head
i have my moments where i believe i could be loved by someone other than myself. if i think about it, and maybe examine myself from the perspective of another, i can see all the lovable parts of me.
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the dawning
at the sunrise of my existence, it was decided that i would carry with me a special kind of burden. perhaps i did something to deserve it in a past life where i was ungrateful and wretched; a godless, wicked little thing of which he decided would suffer in every incarnation to follow.
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break. build.
you.
you will get weaker.
you will break down into infinitesimal pieces as you try to fit the needs of others.
i.
i will get stronger.
i will build myself up with the infinitesimal pieces i broke into when i was trying to fit the needs of you.
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when you go away
there are so many things i can’t do, so many games i can’t play, so many songs i can’t sing along to, so many places i can no longer visit, and so many memories i cannot relive without feelings of devastation now, because it all makes me think of you.
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—06.13.2024—
i was put on this earth to dream up great love stories and write them for others to enjoy, but an imagination like mine makes experiencing a great love story of my own an impossibility.
some days, it feels most unfortunate, but other days, i realize that i would be nothing without my imagination.
if the trade-off for that is love, so be it.
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god is my oath
we had an ‘outdoor cat’ named Isabella. my mother never got it right; always calling her Isabel instead, confusing her with the youngest daughter of a family friend.
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—06.01.2024—
i am taking the parts of me that i’ve lost—parts that i’d always treasured—and attaching them to the person i have blossomed into. if the world will not love me, i will love myself, and if nothing else, i will at the very least become someone i want to love.
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a brief thought on yearning
someone can be a yearner while not allowing that yearning to interfere with their life. the real question is if you consider one being unable to continue on with their life normally a necessary aspect of yearning?
read me -