christina-mccourtWhisper

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Psychedelic GirlJust a Psychedelic girl / And Nothings gonna change my world / Blue skies
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insecuritiesYou aren’t broken, I am / I am flawed / I am malfunctioning
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A Happy PoetListen, I understand that being happy isn't all that artistic. / That loneliness, anger and self hatred are trendier / than being content.
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More ThoughtsI haven’t written anything in a long long long time. / I feel so old. I feel like an old woman whenever im crashing. Or thinking, actually. / I don’t even know where to begin.
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It happens all of the suddenIt happens all of the sudden. One day it’s just one time and then it’s *need*. That’s when you run into trouble. After that, it’s a whole other ballgame. It isn’t addiction until you *need*. / I remember the first time. You always remember your first time. It’s like opening the biggest present at Christmas, it’s like sledding on that extra icy hill you knew was just a little too slippery, it’s like skydiving shooting stars high flying crazy. / Instant exhilaration.
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WeirdI feel wired. / I mean weird. / Wired and weird. Rearranging the letters is making me dizzy.
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WordsWhen I met you, I never intended on dancing for so long. Every year I’d think, “this is the last time I’ll ever see him”. And I would get all weepy and teary-eyed as we sent the boats out for the last time, partially dismembered and covered in old, dirty tarp. But sometimes, I swear, I swear, I’d feel some warped sense of / Relief. / Like I could finally send all my lust and desires off with you to another tomorrow, where I would not be. Every year was your last year. And every year I’d say, “this is the last time I’m ever gonna see you” and you’d say “don’t be ridiculous, we’re gonna see each other again.” And I, “How can you ever know for sure?” And you, “I just got a feeling”. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly like that, it was much more poetic. You’re much more poetic. And I’d melt like play-doh in the sun when you’d look at me lazily with those sky, sky blue eyes. And wither at the thought of you leaving me forever, my sunshine warming my skin to reach and grow.
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ThoughtsIt doesn’t make much sense that I love you. I’m so wrong for you, and you so right for me. I guess it does make sense. But you don’t love me so don’t feel bad. It’s okay, I understand. I’m not a high class, well-educated girl. I feel like you need someone more like my sister, not hot-mess me. I never match, I’m always late, my hair is always frizzy, I can’t dress myself nice, I love you. I fucking love you. Why can’t it be that simple? Why can’t it just be / I love you / I love you too
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Tina RageThere’s only one tina rage, that’s what they say. But it’s only because one is enough chaos for a million. / It’s hard, I mean its easy. It’s easy to be crazy. All you have to do is do exactly what you want to when you want to where you want to without a single fucking thought at all. It’s easy to just wreck havoc and release all the awful energy building inside you. Its like if you don’t release it, explosion is inevitable. My energy will spiral into itself and gather so tightly it will have the gravitational force of a black hole, pulling all in its orbit into absolute darkness. Any that try and fight the tugging will stretch into spaghetti, bones broken and organs useless. The end of my world would start with my attempt at containment. / But you know what is hard? Accepting that part of your personality is “bad”. That it is toxic and maybe even lethal. When others sense your ego dripping with this dark, goopy essence, they run as fast as they can. no one wants to hurt. No one wants my hurt. No one wants the crazies. No one wants me.
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What could have beenWhy don’t you like me? / WHY? / You liked me before, you liked me soo much I could tell by the way you looked at me with this big puppy dog brown eyes, they almost looked wet, tearing, as if your love and affection was so full it was about to spill forth all over me.
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