i ran over a field mouse and cried really hard the whole way home. i’m sorry.
this is a fucking joke. i’ve had 6 other messages like this and it’s nauseating. it’s pathetically gross that you’re using me as an example to fuel your neurotic bullshit personality. i am not you, how fucking shallow is that, anyway? i’m the DEEPEST part of YOU? i’m not connected to your being in any fucking way; don’t lump me in with you as some kind of extension of yourself because i’m a whole person who doesn’t update this shitty journal just so you can find yourself through MY fucking feelings. i’m the furthest thing from being part of you or any other wannabe depressive pastel goth fuck using this website as a platform to showcase one made up existential crisis after another. you wanna learn more about yourself? stop looking for yourself in other people because right now you don’t exist at all. none if this is deep so don’t build it up like it’s this wonderful thing when it’s just some head fucked 21 year old that can’t deal with daily life without romanticizing everything. i fucking hate you all. no one knows me not ever just fucking go away.
when you die i’ll dig you up from six feet under. i’ll die with my face pressed
into your soft rotting body.
crossing state lines with strangers
people with alien hearts & gutter minds
puppies & kittens & elephants
never seeing someone again
i’ll be in a snuff film one day
list of voids
being the bad boy’s good girl
hidden christmas presents
pills & kisses that blur the world
too many feelings at the same time too many people at the same time all the feelings are opposite each other i want to throw up.
how to make a girl:
2 cups boy blood
1 tablespoon garbage
1 teaspoon crushed porcelain
3 cups sugar-coated disappointment
1 original sin
1 halo made of bullets
a dash of glitter & dizzy panic
stir together & set on fire
|—||Ginger and Rosa.|