hypocrite

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at times
i have written
against girls
talking talking always talking
about boys.
i've wanted
girls to live for themselves
to be okay with themselves
without a boy being okay with them
first.
but i hate to admit
i may start (writing) soon
because there is a boy
who meant a bit more than a kiss
and even if it doesn't go
anywhere
right now
i wanted to write
about him
and how nice
his kisses were.

(please get out of my head.)

it would be a lot easier

Excerpt #7

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She hadn't eaten anything for breakfast. That's the first thing you need to know.
And she was sad, that's the second.
That morning she had looked into the speckled mirror. She had taken her eyeliner and -hypnotised- drawn a curved line beneath each eye. She had smudged them until they blended with the real shadows under her eyes, the soft ones. Until she looked as tired and as unwell as she felt. After that, she had smiled.

Later, she walked to the bus-stop. The air was cold, it slipped past her many layers, seeped into her chest. The wind streamed through her ribs, tore inside of her. She felt like she had no body. She felt insubstantial. She decided it was better than the other feelings.

After the novelty had worn off, she would tire of it. She always does.

Deja Vu

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I have this feeling that keeps coming back to me
like not only have i been here before, but i've said these things before, I was in this exact situation before
more than that, i have lived this exact life before
and like groundhog day i keep screwing it up
so i am forced to relive it
and i think
oh the cruelty
because more than ever i believe the mistake will be some kind of tragedy.
will be something bad.
but instead of peace i will be forced to relive it
to start again
to endure everything i've taken so far
again

it feels like moments are gathering towards one
and although i can do anything to change it
i don't know how to
or want to
because the idea of making it up as i go along,
of not unconsciously knowing what's in store
is fucking scary

100

So I will show you...

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FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK

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I actually realise why Dylan has given up on me.

Finally I understand.

I always knew but I never understood

I'm a fucking joke.

There's no words to describe what an incredible twat I am

REPEATEDLY

I am a douche bag

and it annoys me that noone will tell me so.

I swear to God I wasn't always this selfish.

It's just, I've begun taking care of myself, and that hurts other people.

i want to throw something and smash it.

la vérité

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here we go again
with your false hope and my reckless promises
your meaningful looks and my empty words
your beliefs and my aversion to changing them.

the storyline's the same we just rearrange the characters

hope is a dangerous thing.

and again,

i put my faith in a boy who didn't feel the same
i'm such an idiot

Here I go again.

Why do i hide and run away and cower?

Why can't i be happy with who i am and with my life?

Why do i always want more?

Why does my life always have to revolve around me?