xXAlmostDeadXx

I just killed myself tonight. What if it were all to end in a heartbeat. No note, no warning except this post, and nothing to point to as a definitive reason other than "she was sick." My parents would cry, not knowing where they went wrong, just like they always do. (They never did anything wrong, they tried they're best and I could never be what they wanted)

There will be proof of my existence though. The hair dye on the bathroom floor, the blood I've shed, my words scattered across various platforms on the internet, the love I've given, the filth I've spread.

They ask what I am

as if I am meant to stay still long enough

to be named.

I will not harden into one shape

just because the world likes labels.

I am paint still wet,

a sketch with moving lines,

a song changing keys mid-heartbreak.

Every version of me

is only a temporary address.

And as long as I am alive,

I refuse to be fully known.

I refuse to be complete.

I will remain unfinished

becoming, unbecoming, becoming again.

I love moes art!!!!!૮(⋆❛ہ❛⋆)ა