Why do you write?
i write because it helps me get to know myself better and understand what is going on in my head, what I'm feeling and how to get through it. It helps me figure out how to deal with my desires and secrets
-shrug- boredom

Why do you think so badly about yourself?
because its true and I'm awful and horrible and rude and violet and unlovable and unaffectionate and mean and spiteful and ****** and hideous
i just do

I love you
i love you too, but you'll leave and I can't tell you how I feel and maybe I'm reading too much into it and maybe you don't mean it in the way I interpret it and you'll move on and get over it and no one can ever love me, it's not true
**thanks

It's such a personal word
We all cry differently
At different times
With different thoughts
And we all draw different reactions when we cry
We all have different perceptions of crying

Crying doesn't always mean tears
You can cry out someone's name in a moment of passion , or pain, or rage
You can let tears slide down your face in a moment of happiness, sadness, or pain

When I cry
I show my faults
And my weaknesses
I show how easy it is to break me
And how easily I get hurt.

So I refuse to cry.
I wish I couldn't cry.
And right now, I wish I would die.

Tattoos are personal expression
My body
My rules
My ink

I told you I trusted you
I told you I loved you
I told you I care
I told you I try to help
I told you I believe you

You told me you loved me
You told me you cared
You told me to trust you
You told me I was important
You told me you would never intentionally hurt me

And I was stupid enough to believe it all.

You asked me do I hate you
You asked me do I believe you
You asked me why I trust you

What was your intention ?

When I answered
No
Yes
Yes

What was your intention

Did you aim to make me hate you
Did you try to make me disbelieving
Did you want to break my trust in you

What was your intention

I told you to hurt me.
You said no
No
No
No
No
No
NO

What was your intention

I dared you to hurt me
And you said you would never intentionally hurt me

What was your intention

And then you did
And you told me it was intentional

What was your intention

What the **** do you want from me??!
What the **** do you want me to do??!
What the **** was I thinking??!
What the **** was your intention??!

I am not who I seem
I will never be that girl from your dream.

If you start to care
You'll see what isn't there
You will see past that girl who wears black and scowled at pink and dresses
Wants to be a rebel
Wants to be a badass
Wants to be cool
You will learn to see past that exterior
You will know I'm not all attitude and insults
You will realize that that girl who cusses and fights isn't all there is

Then maybe you'll see deeper.
There's another girl
One who wants to dress up
Feel pretty
Wants to be a princess
Someone who wants to be like the people she admires
A little girl who wants to be cute with a guy
Someone who wants to skip around and be one of those lead people in the movies
Someone who cares
Loves
Laughs
Appreciates beauty in butterflies
Tries to help her friends
Loves very easily and quickly
Deep down you'll see that I'm actually a fragile softie who cares too quickly
Gets hurt too easily
And apologizes too much.

Even below that is the person who is unhappy
The one who is self hate
Stupidity
Recklessness
Self-destruction
The little sad girl that slits her skin and cries herself to sleep

But maybe I you manage to survive all that without letting all my **** destroy you (like it has so many others)
Then maybe
Just maybe
You'll get to meet Them
The part of me that created the 5 minute death game
The part that looked up how to tie a noose
And the one that collects pills
The self torturous part
Not just the fel pitying part

And then maybe if you manage to get through all of that you will find my heart
Cut up
Shattered
Bruised
Scarred
Stitched
And infected
Chained to the walls I build around myself
Pulling me apart
The heart that has bullet holes and battle wounds
The one leaving blood stains on what was my soul
The black mass of hell that is at the center of my being.
An if you're stupid enough, you'll make me love you.