(via icanread)
what the fuck is this guy’s problem?
dude, change your fucking tampon and have another drink
It was like I was calling to him all day.
that day
He texted me that night. It didn’t hurt as bad. I’ve accepted the fact that it will always sting a little. I’ve also realized that we will always belong to each other. We can’t escape. We will always have that amount of time when we were the same person, and when I pushed his half of us away, I still had a little of him and him a little of me. I can see through his eyes. I hate everything about him. I love him dearly. I’m done with him finally.
I’ve moved on.
Be my beacon BL. Don’t make me forget, but let me love someone again.
I believe I’ve found someone that might actually be good for me, with no strings, no troubles, no problems or complications.
I feel like i need to be cut out.
Not from my wrists, but my back, my chest.
I feel like I’m trapped again. I’m the ground.
My life is a drain.
Running and circling.
The library will be done soon and my window will be gone. My security, gone. The real me could rise clear blue, mist, spreading, living. Finally living.
I know who I’m asking, I know why. I hate him but I need him. He is still a part of me.
The clear blue is pure.
Knife, blood splatter, deep. The blood must be black, the cut, deep.
The fear is delisious. The pressure extends.
I never thought it would last so long.
No more focus, only draining.
The clear blue is being used by the deep black. The Dark. Being used by the Dark.
The eyes, getting lighter, the dry.
The rushed climb,
The Library.
She’s finally gone
22 hours in 96
