There’s no life in my eyes, its like I’m hooked up to a respirator waiting to die, hooked up to the fucking chair waiting to fry, sooth an electrocution currently used in my execution, producing thoughts at the speed of light. Burning confusion, I’m loosing my sight, breathing is tight, the evening is white, I made my peace with the Lord and now I stand on his right. Death is another part of life.
These are my last words, I’m having difficulty breathing, dying on the inside internally bleeding. Angel of death dragging me away while I’m sleeping, watching the world crumble infront of me, searching for meaning.
Jun 1st • 2 notes
Have another drink and drive yourself home. I hope there’s ice on all the roads. And you can think of me when you forget your seatbelt. And again when your head goes through the fucking windshield.
Jun 1st • 4 notes
- parents: wow you look gorgeous you are so beautiful
- family: surely you have 14 boyfriends and boys falling at your feet
- friends: omg you are soooo pretty
- boys: i've never really seen this species of animal before
WHY ARE YOU ALLOWED TO LOVE YOUR “CURVES” BUT I’M NOT ALLOWED TO LOVE MY “BONES”!? WHY IS IT OKAY TO CALL ME ANOREXIC, BUT IT WOULD BE HORRIBLE IF I SAID YOU WERE FAT!? IF YOU CAN TELL ME TO GAIN WEIGHT, WHY CAN’T I TELL YOU TO LOOSE WEIGHT? IF YOU CAN FEEL BEAUTIFUL BEING BIG, I CAN FEEL BEAUTIFUL BEING SMALL.
May 30th • 4 notes
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