(no subject)
BUT IT'S NOT SO BAD, YOU'RE JUST THE BEST I EVER HAD.
I remember when
I was at your house
And I remember saying
That if he ever broke up with you
You should put that song
In your away message.
I never actually thought
It would come to that.
SAVE MYSELF.
Live your life,
Pay the price.
It's nice to know that
If I ever wanted
Attention
All I'd have to do it
Die.
And YOU'LL go on,
You'll go on
And YOU'LL lack the
Knowledge of
Who I ever was.
HIDING TEARS BEHINED GLASS.
I tighten up my mouth muscles. One hand slowly moves to brush some hair out of my face, the other is balled tightly into a knuckle-whitening fist. My eyes, they're closed, I won't let you see me. My lips slowly move, forming a forced frown upon my tensed face. The kind of frown you get when you're trying too hard not to-
I stare at my feet, I'm turning red. I twiddle my thumbs, force a few laughs. And then, without intention, I let one moist tear escape, making my black mascara run, and leaving a fresh, dampened drop on my sweatshirt sleeve. Soon, another follows and to my dispair, as well as displeasure, another after that. And like rain, they roll down my cheeks, escaping their entrapment from my eyelids. They leave a wet and salty taste on my face, and I turn away. Here I am, no purpose, no cause. Just taking up space. Worthless. And crying.
I think my mother hates me.
I remember when
I was at your house
And I remember saying
That if he ever broke up with you
You should put that song
In your away message.
I never actually thought
It would come to that.
SAVE MYSELF.
Live your life,
Pay the price.
It's nice to know that
If I ever wanted
Attention
All I'd have to do it
Die.
And YOU'LL go on,
You'll go on
And YOU'LL lack the
Knowledge of
Who I ever was.
HIDING TEARS BEHINED GLASS.
I tighten up my mouth muscles. One hand slowly moves to brush some hair out of my face, the other is balled tightly into a knuckle-whitening fist. My eyes, they're closed, I won't let you see me. My lips slowly move, forming a forced frown upon my tensed face. The kind of frown you get when you're trying too hard not to-
I stare at my feet, I'm turning red. I twiddle my thumbs, force a few laughs. And then, without intention, I let one moist tear escape, making my black mascara run, and leaving a fresh, dampened drop on my sweatshirt sleeve. Soon, another follows and to my dispair, as well as displeasure, another after that. And like rain, they roll down my cheeks, escaping their entrapment from my eyelids. They leave a wet and salty taste on my face, and I turn away. Here I am, no purpose, no cause. Just taking up space. Worthless. And crying.
I think my mother hates me.