(no subject)
Another day, another teardrop that has stained my cheek. Another morning that is wasted, unless the caffeine can cure the insomnia. Another pretty face, another blonde, another green-eyed girl headed for disasters. She walks through the halls with one hand on a coffee mug and another wrapped around some notebooks. Her only cures are writing and caffeine, two things that have become much more than addictions. Grasping onto the ground that she walks, exhaling the intoxication from the air. She's just barely getting by, just barely holding on. With a broken childhood and a leaking heartache behind her, she's learning what struggle is all about.