I want mismatches eyes. I want to be taller. I want naturally black hair. I want my wardrobe to look like I’m going to a funeral everyday. I want tattoos and piercings. I want. But I can give too.

I wish to feel your rough hands against my palms again. I try to forget about you, but I can't help but look back on the now bittersweet memories. You used to make me feel like the starry night coursed through my veins, but when I look at old photos of us, it makes me want to swallow the pocket knife you gave me for Valentine's Day. You asked me to go out with you during a concert, and I still, after a month of being single, can't listen to the song you told me you're going to ask me out to. The memories of you are so painfully dreadful now. You told me we could be friends, you said you'd speak to me. You haven't even looked me in the eye sense you told me you weren't fit for a relationship. My cracked nails scratch at the skin that you had touched. I want to claw my body until it bleeds and scars, because I had so much faith in you. You were the only person I had a relationship with that I never said I love you to, but I honestly wanted to tell you the most out of everyone. I now know you're probably just going to move on, forgetting about me. I'm like a cigarette to you, aren't I? Once you were finished with me, you just put me out in your ash tray, and move on to the next one in your carton. I lay in a pile of pillows and sheets, dealing with this alien feeling of heart break, eating my feelings away, and crying over all the times we had good times together. You haunt me in my dreams, taking me back, like I hope you will, but I know that will never happen, because you apparently didn't know me at all. You never asked, so we never progressed I guess, I have this terrible habit of locking up my secrets in a safe when I get close to someone which annoys me, but hey. I can't help it if you never asked about me, you seemed to care about your friends and video games more. You were my longest relationship, you were almost my first everything, you were probably the first person I actually loved. But, oh well, no more starry veins, now it's just lava that scorches my nerves, causing me to fall ill and cry out in agony.

She was going to meet Money Man at the hotel downtown. She met him in the elevator and went to his room. Money Man opened the room with his key card. She went inside. Money Man took her by the hair and whispered "I can make you like me." All she did was nod. He ****** the soul from her veins, the light left her eyes, and the color in her cheeks faded. Now she too, was as cold, as lifeless, as selfish as Money Man. And now, all she can do, is do whatever she can, to get to the top of the world. Because she thought it was made for her now, and that she could rule it with ease, for she had power, the power of money, just like Money Man.

I can't sleep. My head feels like a feather and I  feel like zigzagged lines are being cut in my organs. I try to make my way back to dream land by my attempts are futile. I get up and crouch in front of the toilet.
I instantly start to gag, spitting up my dinner from last night. My cheeks are wet from tears, my body hurts. Why am I sick? Was is from the food I ate last night?
My throat burns from the stomach acid. My nose is running. My face looks drained of any peachy color, which was hardly even there to begin with.
I go back to bed to just lay down, deciding to see if I can function on about five hours of sleep for the day. I guess I'm sick, or just frightens by the raging weather that's been occurring, I'll never know.