in 4th grade i was sure that i wouldn't survive 'til middle school. i was sure that i'd **** myself before i even stepped foot into my new school.
today was my last day of my first year of middle school, the day i never thought i'd reach.
in the beginning of the year i wrote a letter to myself, telling future me to not **** themselves. to not blame themselves for everything.
now i have to see if i'll stay alive 'til i graduate middle school, til i graduate high school, til i graduate college and have a life of my own.
i.. dont wanna do this..
i dont want to. i really dont want to. i just want to end it all, all the pain, all the stress, everything. but i have to do this for everyone else
i wanna live for everyone else
to tell their stories if they can't tell it themselves.
this is what they need anyway. its for them.
If mustangs are ***,
I’m a mustang.
tell him to make his own account
You say you like flowers,
but you pick them.
You say you like animals,
but you eat them.
You say you like me,
now I’m scared.
Thou shall not of thee thy.
i can’t do anything correctly.
“promise me that you won’t cut”
i hear you, father, every time
that knife glides across my skin.
every time that knife digs in.
every time that knife pours out my feelings.
couldn’t i just disappear?
you wouldn’t be so stressed.
less money spent.
no girls in the house.
guys night out.
it’s for you.
we had just watched a bullet pass though and **** a soldier.
my friend is saying “i can’t do this”
while laughing because she can’t handle it.
we joke around but it’s nothing.
i’m in school right now.
i’m in history class.
please let me know what content you would like to read on here.
i don’t know what to do.