It's a picture of a cat flying a helicopter:

It's stimulating in an overwhelming way
and not dissimilar to the first time I drank spring water.

i'm ******* honored
to be the exception

to be the only girl
you think is cute
with short hair
because of your stupid generalized rule
that short hair is unattractive

*******
and **** that your compliments
no matter how backwards
still make me happy

if boys like you
wanted me, sober,
as much as you do
when you're drunk
then maybe i wouldn't
feel so hideous
and useless
and used
and sad

It's a riddle, Hazel Grace,
and nobody gives a ****.

How Long is a Chinese man
and I came home to find my mother passed out
on the kitchen floor.

An empty bottle of Jack hides in plain sight,
so I steal money from her purse to buy
pleasure and delusional sequences
and I can't seem to think about anything but you.

This isn't romantic,
this is as disgusting and ****** as the scars on my wrists,
this is as twisted and cruel as the decomposing corpse
of my neighbor's cat
in the parking lot across the street.

Don't touch me,
please,
I'll start to like you
and then I'll kiss you
and then I'll start to love you
and then you'll ****** me and make my hands shake.

I want you to write about me,
I want it to be blunt
and truthful
and I want it to hurt.
I want it to leave me gasping for breath
and I want to remember it
when I'm ******* that girl who ****** your ex-boyfriend.

my body has begun
to bear the weight
you've put on my mind

i don't know how i got
these scratches and bruises
but i'm blaming you

it's easier that way

i feel a desperate need to apologize
but i have nothing to be sorry for

sorry for not being ready?
sorry for not believing you
(when you've given me evidence
to prove the opposite of your words)?

the more and more you opened up
the more and more i began to see
the parts of me that i hate the most
inside of you
(and you didn't bother to hide it)

you never bothered to know me
you only bothered to know
your interpretation of me
and it was wrong
(don't argue with me)

i am not everything you hoped i'd be
and i'm sorry for that
but you did this to yourself

i know exactly what you're going through
i know exactly how you feel
but please
just
shut the **** up

(you never listened to me anyway)

oh if only you knew
i would give anything
anything to be
anything other than me

freckled knees
freckled shoulders
freckled arms

"why are you so pale?
you look like you're dead
have you tried getting a tan?"

the irony stings my burned shoulders,

yes i have tried.

yellowed bruises remain on my thighs,
the thighs that got me called fat
in the seventh grade

"have you ever noticed
she's kinda fat? i mean
her thighs are so big,
they're like thunder thighs"

and from that statement a nickname was coined
that caused me to desperately,
desperately,
need to be skinnier
and i'll never be enough

"darling, are you okay?
please take this
go home and eat a big dinner
the wind is going to blow you away!"

i don't think i can ever win

I remember waking up very early the next morning,
maybe three hours after I fell asleep on the bathroom floor.

I tiptoed through the house, careful not to wake anybody up,
even the guy who kept telling you to drink
even though you very kindly asked him to stop.

I'm not sure if you ended up drinking,
I forgot most of what happened that night,
but I remember shouting from the tire swing
that I loved you and that I loved you
and that I loved you.

I found where you were sleeping,
relieved to find no body next to yours,
and calmly placed a hand on your forehead.
You stirred, before gently grabbing my hand as it pulled away.

Eyes still closed,
you asked me how I felt.

I feel okay, nothing appears to be broken.

You said nothing and went back to sleep.
I said nothing and sat there for a long while.
I watched your chest rise and fall with each breathe,
and I loved you and I loved you and I loved you.

After a time I stepped outside to smoke a thought,
and the thought I smoked was not of you or of the night before
but of my mother.
She told me,
after I brought home my first date, two months into my freshmen year of high school,
that just because I desire somebody's love,
does not mean I deserve it.

I loved you and I loved you and I loved you
but I did not deserve your love.