I never get any messages or questions.
Fuckin balls.
I know Herman, it’s been a rough day.
(Source: t0teslegit, via kissmycollarbone)
I had a dream last night.
The earth was still and warm.
You were near, but hiding your presence.
I yelled “come my world, my stars, my moon!”
The butterflies began to melt from my skin.
the trees and the flowers sang sweet melodies of new beginnings; of past loves and lost nostalgia.
I sang out with the flowers.
Complete me.
Fill my soul with the sweet breath of your life.
We’ve got infinity ahead.
We mustn’t waste a moment.
It’s interesting how your mind grows and develops with age and experience. When you’re young, you fall head over heels for that special someone and you’re sure that you have fallen in love. Then comes heartbreak. That painful stab to your mind and emotions. Even now, after experiencing this many times, I’m still not sure that there is any greater pain. After awhile you start to differentiate the feeling of love and lust. Still, you trick yourself into believing that this lust is love. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that does this. I feel that I hunger for the feeling of being accepted and held and wanted so badly, that i make mental decisions to block out everything bad that a guy does to me, and see only the good in them. This has led me into a maze that I cannot seem to find my way out of. I’m running, screaming, clawing at the walls.
There once was a theory about the world sharing one conscience.
Inspiration lies in my lungs
My mind intertwines with the conscience of the world
Ideas are among us, mind to mind; Soul to soul.
After you try so hard to be someone other than yourself, you realize..
Who are you?
You’re the girl who lost herself.
Snorting blush.
Smoking lipstick.
Shooting up mascara.
You’re the girl who lost herself
Among the identical faces that march the hallways
You’re the girl who lost herself
While drowning yourself in lust for popularity.
When I look in the mirror, I see you staring back at me.
Those empty eyes
that once contained a true inner beauty and love for oneself.
Something I wrote a couple of months ago.
I can’t write.
My mind hungers for rest, but cannot be satisfied.
What is it that eats away at me like some sort of flesh devouring disease?
Someone tell me, I’m begging you.
I can’t see myself in 10 years.
5 years.
2 years.
Tomorrow.
I’m numb to the world, only disquising the numbness with a show of laughter;
An empty confidence.
I don’t feel that I belong here.
I’m suffocating.
Where is the air?
