Love is not what people make it out to be:
Love isn't a boy looking into your eyes and seeing nothing but galaxies full of undiscovered potential that he would do anything to explore.
Love isn't a girl kissing you on the cheek at 3 am because you woke up cold but she had all the covers and you didn't even bother to take them back from her.
Love isn't two people sitting on the roof in the middle of the night smoking cigarettes while staring at the stars and wishing that they were frozen in that moment forever.
Love is the blood that pours from your wrists when you realize all those moments have to end.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
im a useless excuse of a human being
im tired of being sad
and im changing everyday
because i promise someday
i can make myself feel alive
and i can't promise i'll be everything i need
but i'll give myself everything i've got
i'm not the perfect girl
and i can't shake the feeling that
i can't get anything right
but i make a lovely mess
and how can people pin their happiness
on another person when they can't even love themselves?
can i give you a piece of advice from somebody:
(who’s been through this a few times already)
trust your gut
my biggest mistake was thinking someone else could fix me
only i can fix me
im going to spend my life trying to feel alive
whispering i am broken and a wreck
but i'll love myself until im dead
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
When I was 12
I would sit and listen to
love songs and smile
and sing along,
and feel bad when people lost it.
I never understood,
how could someone be so sad?
"They are just a person"
I would think.
Now I know,
sitting up on late nights
looking at old photos
with tears streaming down my face.
Clutching my chest
wishing you were here.
Everyday is like a fight
to see how long it'll take
till you pop on my mind
and crush my soul.
Looking at the sky and knowing
somewhere you are there
and alone.
Now I know
and I hate it.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
I think I'm about to have *** with someone I really don't want to have *** with.
Apparently doing it once is an excuse for life.
And apparently my consent doesn't matter.
But that's nothing new.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
My friend had a knife
She didn't use it right
Knives are for cutting food
She used it for her mood
Knives are to open Mail
She used it to wail
Knives aren't meant
On the skin
The beautiful skin on each of us
My friend HAD a knife
She didn't use it right
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
I haven't even had the scent of ***** lingering around me since we ****** nonetheless had it running down my throat. It's finding it's way to my veins and going straight for my heart, just like you did, except nothing will ever burn as much as your touch. Nothing will ever feel the way it felt to hold you. My mother once told me that there will always be boys who take advantage of you and that you will learn to be okay with it, but if taking shot after shot is learning to be okay with it then I don't wanna be in this class anymore. If this is what it takes to survive then id rather be dead.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
I'm not going to remember today 10 years from now so why the **** does it matter? Why does anything matter?
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
All I wanna do is forget.
Every ******* word you said to me, every person who doesn't give a **** about me, every time you laid your hands on me, everything.
I feel the ***** burning as if runs down my throat.
But it's working.
Why be stuck feeling sad when I can choose to not feel anything at all?
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
I ****** up the nerve endings in my wrist so now every once in a while it feels like my arm is ripping apart, but somehow I still think that it's you trying to touch me.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
Between being touched by you
and ripped apart by myself
my body has lost all its worth
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC