She smelled of strawberries and depression.
What a combo

Some days I don't exist. My bed becomes a casket.

Every girl having one foot in fairytale


and the other in reality well to be honest its just the shoe floating on the river of realism. The girl is drowning in dululu)

Ppl who write to not go mad

Vs

Ppl who write to touch the bottom of madness

Write, you weakling: write, you mad
woman, write your misery out, write
out your guts, spill out what is choking you, shout obscenely.

I like flaws. I think they make things interesting.

She is Art. What the fuck do you expect from her, other than confusion, beauty and goddamn soul?

Hiding my trauma and insecurities behind "😁"

Oh my god there are so many books to read and instruments to play and languages to learn and people to meet and songs to hear and food to taste and places to see and lives to live. But I choose my bed

I wonder if all this is happening because of that video I didn't forward to ten ppl

*lies to therapist as i have an image to maintain*

The customer is always wrong.They don't know shi I work here, not you

Pdf and cry?

Does it bother me? Yes
Will I ever tell you? No

What's not gonna kill you would text you after 2 years, literally

Googling "what year is it" like a confused time traveller every week because I can never remember. ( I just slept too much, and I can't remember where I slept whose bed am I on what the date is, if it's day or night which wall am i facing)

And when you play guitar I listen to the strings buzz, the metal vibrates underneath your fingers

Moments before disaster

Do you really want this for the rest of your life?