im kinda happy but i also really wanna get hit by a car at the same time
April 24, 2013 at 10:26am
The seat-belt sign is on.My coffee is already gone. Skim milk and 4 Splenda’s. Or sugar is just fine. My hand hurts yet I’m still writing. How am I supposed to remember when I always forget? You were there to remind me.
Ink stains cover my finger tips from tracing my words on paper. Clouds look like white oceans from way up here. They seem to go on forever. I wonder if you like it there, wherever you are. I just want to feel your pulse. I would be your pulse. I would do anything just to hear you laugh again. We could share my heartbeat up in the white ocean.
Who knew I could last a year without you? The tattoo on my stomach has healed but my heart hasn’t. Who knew I was so weak? I should know better. You were my security. You were my stability.
The music seems so much louder now. My hand grips the pen like it’s all I have. It’s all that is real. Letters, words, feelings, and a little bit of trust. I keep losing myself but finding bits and pieces on this paper. I fear the day I find nothing. The empty white and blue lines offer hope and resolution, but only for a few moments, or until I decide to read it over again.
I wasn’t ready, but really, whoever is? I didn’t know I was supposed to remember. I didn’t want to start over and leave it all behind. My hair was shorter then. It’s still growing and I hope it can hide all my insecurities. All the ones that plague my wondering mind.
We are preparing for landing but I’m not ready yet. I wasn’t ready for takeoff, but it still happened. I’m not in control and I’m so desperate to be. Taking off isn’t nearly as final as landing. When the fuck will I ever be ready?
I just want to see you again.
I can make you love me.
I can make you hurt me.
I’ll make you want to.
I can make you miss me.
I’m so good at disappearing.
I can make you forget me.
I won’t forget you though.
I’m so easy to lose.
I’m so good at destroying myself.
I’m so attracted to the demons.
Home was calling and pleading for my return.
It looked like a quick fix.
Goddamn, I need a fix or a change or anything besides this lonely city lined with cocaine drops and wine waterfalls.
But just as soon as safety came back, so did all the shit I ran away from.
She laughed so she wouldn’t cry
She cried when she couldn’t get high
A sloppy, stumbling mess in a second-hand dress
‘I can’t stop myself,’ she wept and confessed
Her smile was tight, her hands were full
So bad but so good, such a push and pull
It was never enough, the bag was empty
She needed more but he told her she had plenty
She screamed, ‘go hard or go home’
But she couldn’t go home
She didn’t want to be alone
And they all kept telling her, ‘tone it down.’
Tone it down, tone it down.
(Source: , via afuckingfox)
Yes, I do enjoy walking at night. The world’s more to my liking then, not so loud, not so fast, not so crowded, and a good deal more mysterious.
— Cornelia Funke (via oh-the-alcoholic-afternoons)
(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via seemsabitparanoid)