I guess I'm just a fucked up combination of all...
One morning, early in last week I became entranced by the dirt beneath my feet So I laid down right there on the ground And was the surprised by life as it constantly went around I resolved to sit there, to never lift my head To let the world pass over me, as if I were dead I smiled to myself as I laid in the grass So confident and sure that all would and must pass A stranger later asked...
My mouth tastes like metal And my throat’s filled with cement I don’t know how to hope anymore Or where my personality went
Everyone gets bored of everything so easily these...
I feel so out of place, the way I can worship and think about an album or novel for months, whereas most people change their favorite song or book every week. Everyone transitions so easily, and I feel like I’m the only brain that still has a stick shift. I get stuck on things, you know? Once I love something, it’ll define me for the rest of my life. I think that confuses people, as...
There’s a place, Where I can go, When I feel low, When I feel blue....– The Beatles
I have these images, these people in my head and I just can’t seem to get them out, to show the depth and emotions that’s inside them to the people of this world. I try, I always try, but I feel as if I don’t do them justice. There’s so much more to them then I could ever convey through words or art or music. They’re extraordinary. But I guess you’d have to know...
I know I’m still young and there’s a lot of time for things to...– Lynne Rae Perkins
And maybe one day all the broken people Will climb out of the graves They’ve already dug for themselves And will smile Because there’s this thing And it’s called hope And it’s worth it all Really
oh, darling drama queen
It’s such a strange feeling to put tons and tons of time and energy into something and then it’s over…just like that. I feel empty, almost. I hate endings, especially when it comes to something I care about.
Give me metaphors or give me death
a theory of relativity
A thieving little girl with dirt on her hands Whose dreams were filled with love and lace A loneliness, a hurt that was pushed aside Life on the streets is no place for the divine A starving belly, a lashed about back Her world was one of constant attack But she lived, and grew up, old at an age much too young Her sole job being a survivor, working as an artist on the side She said it...
I don’t fit in. I know it. It’s because I’m shy, I guess, and because I’m not very nice either. I wish I wasn’t like this. It’s just that when I’m talking to someone, the words never come out right. I can’t be funny or witty when I’m using my mouth, and I always get the feeling that people are humoring me, just waiting for me to be done my bit...
Emotions are tough to come by On these cold, dark nights At this place I have been for far too long But I try anyway I grit my teeth and Try anyway
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl Year after year– Pink Floyd
Die, manic pixie dream girl stereotype, die.... →
Like tiny fishes We try to swim against the current But turn back before we’re eaten
I currently eat, breathe, and dream Les...
Every day when I get out of bed, I’m surprised waking up hasn’t killed me yet.
I am a haphazard mess I am collapsing under the weight of myself And the expectations expected of me I just want to let go, to fall, fall, fall But the very thought makes me cling tighter
I am a little girl, weak and lonely, not a force to be reckoned with. But oh, how I try to be.
She laughs. “I know,” she says. “I know that all this shit I’m doing is bad. But as I do more and more bad things, they all matter less. People can do horrible things to me, and I can do horrible things to myself, but none it touches me. It’s like being invincible.” She gets a dreamy look in her eyes. “Like I’m Superman. And my only krypotonite is...
I accept chaos In fact, I expect it
When my hair was cut, just above my ears And your tooth, second from the front, was crooked We told stories of secret wonderlands That we frequented often Then, our laughs were long And now they are short
I keep my heart black and bitter Like my coffee