This isn't an expedition. It's an execution.

I would give you my heart, still beating, hands bloody and trembling.

I love you so much, and I try to be as strong. As smart. And funny. As charismatic as you. And I never will and I know I’ll forever be in your shadow.

You’re already doing great things, while I still lay down at night staring at the awards I was so proud of. The awards I realize they only gave to me as a show that they weren’t sexist.

I love you so much, why do I still fear you? Why do I dream of shattered balconies, your hands grabbing my throat, and letting me fall? Why do I flinch every time you come near?

“Acne so bad you look like a braille patch”

(This one was too his friend but still) “dude even [dead name] can beat that and she’s like. A midget”

(this was a joke i think..?) “can’t even do v2? Pffft- weak!”

“I’m gonna put liquid chalk on your forehead. It’ll help clear up that braille patch” (he actually did and then slapped my shirt with it. Yippie.)