daylight

blue lips, blue veins.

i don't even know anymore, my mind is spinning. i don't want to think about it.

she's such a charmer, oh no.
i want you to be crazy 'cause you're boring, baby, when you're straight.
hello, world. i'm your wild girl.
so, come on, flash, all my ladies.

i like a BOY.

b.i.t.c.hes on my d_ck like this.

grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you.

red lipstick.

she bats her eyelashes.

her pallid skin.

i want to see her smile.

fuck.

i tried to change this, but i can't. it's not just something i can stop, like smoking or drinking. it's there all the time.

and that's kind of okay :)

keep with me, i hope you'll see that we can speak at slower speeds.

i was just enjoying a decadent plum when, to my extreme displeasure, i came across half a cluster of brown worm eggs embedded in my snack. i recovered the lost half, semi-chewed, inside of my mouth.

i am nautious and i don't what the shit to do about the fact that there are a few stranded worm eggs inside of my mouth.

i am going to go with drinking piping hot coffee. it's scalding my mouth but who cares.

die, fucking worm eggs, die.

i've been a complete emotional wreck this entire week. i was unimaginable, i was out of control. i was laughing hysterically, and then i was on the floor of the shower, and just for the record, crying in the shower is not as fun as every bumper sticker or typograph on weheartit.com says it is. it sucks.

i haven't stared at a pair of scissors like i did this week in a very, very long time. we're talking years here.

i also haven't felt so reckless and directionless in a very long time. i feel helpless and i am lost for words. for lack of a better word, i am screwed.

"everybody has three lives; a public life, a private life, and a secret life."

i think my problem is that my secret life is seeping through my private life and into my public life. to pretend is not an option anymore, i struggle to secure the mask on my face everytime i see someone, anyone.

being alone only lures out the demons. not childhood demons from the past, those are successfully suppressed. my demons are from my present, my everyday life. they lurk.
but whatever, life's like that when you're a moody teenager. an overly emotional teenager. a moody, over-the-top emotional teenager who analyzes almost every single miniscule detail until you pass out from sheer exhaustion. when you're so very tired that you can't think straight. but you can't stop.

i'm pretty much tired of being in love with you

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

you're so sly.

the joys of being an adolescent.

i love the book looking for alaska. famous last words. it's beautiful and i like it.

i don't really have much to say, except that i miss my phone. and anja.

do you know fuck i forgot what i was going to say. oh, i remember now, do you know what works? it works, when you're uncomfortable, to make the people making you uncomfortable more uncomfortable than you are. when you out-uncomfort your uncomforters.

i think i'm going to go shower, and watch movies until i have to go to school, because the dreams have now become nightmares.

i miss you.

we were young.

you were the only reason for the state i was in. you were the only reason for that state of mind, state of being. now that you're not an option anymore, i want out.

we were young.

my skin is crawling. shivers shoot down my spine and slowly work their way back up. withdrawal symptoms?

most amazing moments in life: this is my list so far:

- sitting on the floor of the shower, under the hot water, until it runs out
- holding hands
- barefoot on grass
- body heat in winter
- the build-up to a kiss

i think that's it so far. i can't think of any other things as cool as those, and as timeless.

it's midnight, i'm listening to jack johnson, and i need to sleep, but i can't, because when i do, i dream. i thought it had stopped, but i was only relieved from this torture - in the form of unbearably lucid dreams - for a few nights. they're back, and i can't handle the way my heart drops when i wake up and realise nothing ever really happened.

it's like waking up on the wrong side of the bed every single morning. it's like waking up to this immense disappointment that tightens my heated heart until i physically feel it pump frantically, oxygen-deprived.

i'm like seventeen and i'm going to die of heart failure.

this is everything.

phoneless, loveless, moneyless.

self-restriction has got to be hands-down the most difficult thing to orchestrate successfully, because there are so many things to sway you off your path of self-preservation and onto one of self-destruction. it's uncanny, really. it blows my mind.

i keep typing a sentence, and then backspacing and restarting. i kinda wish i could do that in real life, it would be of so much help.

she is so beautiful. her hair cascades over her shoulder and down her back, and timidly tucks in behind her ears. her eyes are always emphasized by a delicate glint, and she is almost impossible not to look at. she is effervescent, she is whimsical. she could be something.

but my vision is clouded by a haze the shape, size and colour of you.