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
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
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
It's 2 o'clock in the morning and all i can think of
is how it feels to have you lying next to me.
I sleep better when you're here
because every time you touch me i feel like im at home.
Every time you throw your leg across me
and steal all of my covers
i feel like i belong.
I feel like someone loves me
when i wake up in the middle of the night
and you don't yell at me when i open the window
to smoke one more cigarette,
but you roll over and you kiss me on the cheek
and you tell me im cute when my hair is a mess.
I feel like someone loves me when you dismiss
all of my flaws because none of them matter to you.
All you want to do is hold my hand,
and right now all i want to do is hold yours.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Maybe if i lace my thighs with bandaids
I can trick my brain into thinking that i ripped myself apart
just moments ago
and maybe i'll get the adrenaline rush anyway.
Since all it takes is the sting of a razor blade for me to feel something,
maybe the thought of pain will do the same.
"The mind is everything, what we think we become."
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
"Don't punish yourself with boys, sweetheart"
She says to me over and over
to try and calm me down
when i called her at 3 in the morning
crying so hard that i couldn't breathe,
only able to mutter "I didn't want to"
through muffled screams
And I thought to myself,
Why would i punish myself with ***
But now i'm sitting here again
at 3 in the morning
doing things i do not want to do.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC