when did i become such a paranoid he-bitch? i come home from classes afraid to unlock my door. i dread leaving the room for any amount of time and i hate it when they leave together. my stomach is constantly in knots and i hardly have eaten in the weeks they've stayed here ( Read more... )

maybe it's just me but somehow i don't feel that i should have to experience this much difficulty just trying to spend a fucking minute alone with someone i'm in a relationship with ( Read more... )

On occasion I have to wonder if I'm ever going to completely be able to let go of things to a point where a random phrase doesn't ignite my chest like twisted wires snaking in and out of my ribcage, set on fire in a puddle so that it smokes up my throat and I cough and choke trying to calm it down again ( Read more... )

i think that my stupid heart is breaking ( Read more... )

Last Thursday, in English class, Ms. McCray put a movie on for us to watch.
Instead of watching the movie, though, I was studying Coty and Dane. They both came in at the same time, which wasn't really cause for consideration...but then they sat together, and as I was reading I caught sight of several things in succession that made me pick up my ( Read more... )

it means almost nothing anymore to hear that i am angry about something. i'm almost always angry, by the looks of things; almost nothing pleases me, nothing satisfies me, nothing appeases me.
this of course is not the truth but it is accurate enough of the time to paint a rather nasty picture of the nature of myself and my temper to other people who ( Read more... )

a) it is really beginning to irritate me with the way that calling me pip is migrating among people who should not be calling me pip. the only people who should ever have called me pip are alex and darren and i am on speaking terms with neither (one for obvious reasons, the other because we just kind of vanished from each other's lives). nobody ( Read more... )

determination is born of denial ( Read more... )

I've been fine all fucking day since I woke up in that dreamy smokehaze world induced by the tiny circular cure that shoved away the fingers digging scrapping pinching yanking my fucking shoulder muscles. I wrote twice: one prose, one poem, and i felt good. I talked to Ashe. I felt great.
I talked to Ravon. I felt a bunch of different ways because ( Read more... )

am i the only person psychologically impaired by beauty, in the sense that to be near it or in its presence at all fucking hurts to the point where I can't breathe, and I run as far away as I can and I cry?

most of it's jealousy, though. that must be why it only affects me to see a pretty boy and not a pretty girl.

because I
want
to be
a shockingly

( Read more... )