C'est à ce garocher dans les murs ces...?

When I was younger, I was that weird girl playing by herself at lunch. Always in the sunshine looking at flowers and laying in the grass... I was never really in the mood to hang out with other kids. I'm starting to realize that side never leaves and I'm still the same.

It's been a month.

- I don't know how much time you have left but the doctors say it's not much.

- Seventeen. No parents around, staying at a friends place, not enough time to work to make money, trying to stay in school, wanting to stick to my hobbies, coping with a friends death and your sick grandfather isn't the easiest thing... Yep yep... I'm keeping these feelings inside for as long as I can. I don't know how everyone expects me to get my shit together... They can't see my real struggle and I don't want them to.

- Where art thou?

- I want to get this tattoo before you go. I want you to see it.

Yesterday

I didn't fully understand what was going on. I saw it and I let it happen... And now I wish I would have said something at the time. I've lost something I know will be impossible to gain back and all I feel is guilt. It's a shitty fucking deal... Ugh. Worst part is not being able to see you anymore... You were always the best part of the day. :(

It's incredibly difficult!

I have such an addictive personality and it fucking sucks... Waking up every morning and the first thing I think about is getting stoned or beamed... And it's starting to follow me every where, just as it used to..... And how is it possible that my love for drugs is stronger than my love for anything else? I can think of all the good reasons as to why I quit in the first place but the harm it causes is nothing compared to how good it makes me feel inside.

Past

Over and over again I keep on getting dragged back into my past. Why? I really wish I'd never have to see you again... But when I do this time, I'm going to tell you straight up what's on my mind. I'll tell you everything about the past couple of years and I'll tell you about how you turned me into a fuck up. I'll tell you about how I cry because of you, I'll tell you how my bruises haven't healed and I am still broken, I'll tell you about the times I tried to run away from it all but it came back to me meeting you...


Now I have to go take a shit.

It wasn't enough.

I held the sharp metal against my skin, I felt the ague. I pressed it down hard, I felt ache. And through the consequence of self harm, I saw the crimson red. The pain subsided as I thought about how much I hated myself, about how much deserving I am of nothing. It wasn't enough. I stumbled around in the dark looking for something to make my mind wander off and there it was, a bottle of my grandfathers prescribed drugs. I picked it up, swallowed every possible pill that could make me drift away and die. For sure I thought I was gone this time...

Tired of dance!

- Where do you go with your broken heart in tow?

- Starting to feel homesick and its only been 2 weeks...
NY womps.