do you ever want to punch yourself in the face for liking someone a lot
IF YOU EVER GET IN A FIGHT WITH YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER JUST BREATHE IN THE HELIUM OUT OF A BALLOON AND HAVE AN ARGUMENT AND THE FIRST ONE TO LAUGH LOSES
When I turn sixteen, I fall in love with a boy who only knows how to choke and kill. He tells me that I should burn myself from inside out to prove that I would tear down the world for him, then leaves with a girl with legs built from diamond mines. For years after, I hold jewels between my teeth and pray to be beautiful.
My best friend leaves for a girl who keeps her sides stitched together well – “the sky is always falling where you are,” she says. “I am tired of the hurricane.” I am tired of the hurricane too, I want to say, but when I reach for calm skies, they whip into a frenzy at my touch and rip holes into my bones. This is not Oz, this is Armageddon.
I fall asleep on the bathroom floor and I’m sorry and I thought the white flush of porcelain would make me pretty and I’m sorry and I wanted to kiss something but it ended with teeth and I’m sorry and I want to die and I’m sorry and I’m sorry and I’m sorry.
I tell my parents about the storm, one night when I feel his hands crawl up my sides and split my seams apart. With my head tucked under my father’s chin, I say they made me wrong and God’s gunning for me now. My mother braids the licks of hair behind my ear and says I am her baby – I will be okay.
I am okay. I kiss my wrists and leave the blades unbloodied. It’s been a year since the last scar healed and I am okay. Sometimes life is a car wreck, but I’ve got hands meant for surviving. I can love myself without the fear now, no bathroom floors or half-starved nights, licking love from all the old wounds I used to cover, and I am okay. I do not need boys with cigarettes strangled between their teeth or girls with nails like knives, I can hold myself hard enough to crack ribs and convince my bones that I’m beautiful, and I am okay. I miss my father’s arms, and my mother’s mouth, but they taught me to love myself before they left. I do not have to be a hurricane. I do not have to be a hurricane. I am okay.
Love Song of a Sad Girl | d.a.s
NaPoWriMo day 19: transformation(via backshelfpoet)
Sometimes you need to burn bridges to stop yourself from crossing them again.L. Gabriel (via matt-frick)
5 Things They Don’t Teach you in Highschool:
1) You’re going to leave the house at 2AM, 16 with nothing in your pockets but 50 bucks and a bus ticket. It won’t feel real. You’re going to think you’re leaving, but you aren’t going anywhere.
2) Swallow your fucking pride and go back inside. Lock your bedroom door, put your hands over your ears, bring your knees to your chest and when you’re ready, let your walls disintegrate and the sadness flood in, because baby I promise you, you’ll feel better if you just let yourself drown. Even if it’s the third goddamn time that week.
3) He’s going to taste like Newports, Trident spearmint and desperation. You’re going to taste like Lime-a-Rita’s and anxiety. You will tell yourself you need this. But you don’t. I promise you. You don’t. You don’t.
4) You’re going to have girlfriends who fall for boys who treat them like absolute shit. Do not learn from them. If a boy calls you a bitch, spit in his face and leave.
5) Do it even if it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Even if you’re still convinced that he was hiding galaxies beneath his skin. Because baby I promise you, he was the always dark night sky and you were always the full moon. No question bout’ it.Abbie Nielsen - passionandcoffeestains (via bruisedbbygirl)