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My name's Meghan, and I'm nineteen. I like feminism, Sofia Coppola, apples, and John Lennon's nose. When I grow up I want to be Winona Ryder and/or David Foster Wallace. I have a bad personality. I'm working on it?

26 June 2012
10:31 pm
82 notes
Dear Andy


Sup, Douchebag. 

I am writing this in the tire tracks
that lead off the highway on the road home from school-

40 miles in a 65.  

my dad thinks we’re gay now because we like to run and eat pizza together.
I don’t think he understands that eating pizza is code for talking to cute girls
who look like they’ll have good taste in music,
and I don’t really care that he doesn’t like it,
but the way he told me I was too attached to you

It was like he thought love was a hate crime.  

Andy do you think we know really where we go when we die? 
I always wondered if there was a track there, some kind of eternal oval where
you just run 400 repeats at 65 seconds a lap, the 4:20 mile  
until time decides to give up
She told me to leave tonight, Andy.

I don’t think she meant her room.

68 in a 65

Remember how I could always eat more pizza than you? 
Like it was a good thing that I was living a B-Rated romantic comedy
Nicholas Sparks rip-off week to week as though the tears of girls
were some kind of drug and me the worst kid of addict

Andy pizza gets old
And all the girls the last year weren’t worth it
you see “all that pizza” is just an example of what happens when we take it too far
when you really lose control
and start burning everything around you just to keep yourself alive

Remember when we ran through light-houses named after rock songs
and sang about cloud formations as though we knew exactly where heaven was
and it was home in our beds?

I’m going home tonight
but I can’t tell if that means
the tear-stains on my blanket
the stainless steel knife in my parents knife-drawer

or the concrete barrier 4 miles away

79 in a 65

Andy where are you
the lines in the road are like cones and I’m an inline skater
on 4-wheel drive let’s see how fast I can weave
before we spin out

92 in a 65

Numbers don’t matter she told me
after I found out there’d been at least two others
this week

Like she thought love was a hate crime and she was just jay-walking

Andy the lines are too blurred to steer straight
I need you to smack me in the face and
tell me to stop being a sissy
but Andy it’s so convenient to 
just punch the pedal


let’s go for a long run when you get back from colorado


I can’t see the road anymore
the tears are blurring too much
why did I wear these stupid fake glasses


she told me to stop being dramatic
as my head hit the floor
and the shaking began again


Andy you’re the reason I’ve been waking up the last week


Andy make it stop


Maybe they’re right maybe love is a hate crime


there’s a song playing on the radio

it goes


I’m going straight now


the barrier is right in front of me and the freeway is empty




I wonder if that’s what it feels like


make it stop 

(via westernwon-deactivated20131209)

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