Dazestyx

If i had a mother, I think I would have been okay. I think that instead of cutting pieces of my flesh, I would have told her that it hurts and that i think it always will, I would have told her about the times I laid in bed wondering if a pretty face would make it better, I would have told her that I don't know how to forgive myself for not being the person I wanted to be, I would have told her I was still a child, I would have told her how being a writer isn't as great as people make it out to be, there is nothing great or happy about being in so much pain that you don't know how else to cope with it instead of writing about it, writing about it in a way that makes shakespeare look almost un-tragic. I think I would have told her about this boy I met when I was fourteen, about the way we had an on and off relationship until I turned sixteen, until he finally couldn't digest me anymore, until he finally had to puke me out, until he finally left me, until he finally realised someone else has to be the one to choke for me, someone, anyone, but him, because he couldn't do it, he couldn't do it, mom, it scares him, the way I make him feel raw, almost vulnerable, too vulnerable to be a human. he said if love doesn't feel like the way I make him feel, he does not want it, it's been 6 months now, I can't help but think, was it love he gave up on, or was it me. If I had a mom, I think, I would have told her, told her how he ate my heart raw and then left it to be feast upon by flies, the houseflies in my neighborhood that sometimes roam around the city graveyard

I swear old people are too paranoid about death and then I imagine myself at 76 years old, knowing death might be near, lingering between the cherry bushes mid town and suddenly I'm 16 again, desperate to not grow older, desperate to stop the time from moving. I hope death is gentle, I hope it's as forgiving as I was at 6, I hope it's not as cruel as you are to yourself, I hope it's as soft as the first warm body you touched at 17

you swear you don't care much about love but you still remember the first girl that made you consider the concept of it, you swear it wasn't anything serious but if you could make her pancakes, you would. you swear you don't care much about love but you still remember the first guy that made you understand what being hauntingly beautiful meant, you swear it wasn't that serious but he made you realise what being hungry to be loved must feel like. you swore it was never that serious but that same day u went home to your friend, to talk about the way the guy u didn't love made you want to be loved. you swear you don't care about being loved but god, wouldn't u like for someone to fall in love with you like the last pen that fell in love with you and kissed your skin blue? you swear you don't care about falling in love but you wouldn't mind if u did

It felt good to be loved by you, and even after you left me like a stray on the streets, the love I felt for you still lingered. but now it's summer again and the feeling of being a stray is back like an inevitable breeze. you say it's okay, "we didn't talk for only 730 days", and I convince myself you're right, it's okay, we are okay but everytime I taste you on my tongue, I can't help but wonder would you abandon me again like u abandoned the peeled oranges when you were 17

I hope the sun rests gently on your shoulder on a monday morning, i hope it eases the aching pain of the last weekend looming around the cracks of your ribs.

Things that remind me of Taylor Swift : Cats, ankle boots, staying up late at night and crying about how that random girl in the street called me pretty, autumn, cardigans, crime& punishment by Dostoevsky hidden inside my backpack between school books, puffy shirts tucked into oversized trousers, knee socks, scarves, pumpkin latea, letting the wind crash against my trench coat, Quoting Oscar Wilde into the side of a blue light emergency phone station, the first batch of freshly baked cookies, caffeine bursts, rings that turn my fingers green, hardcover novels, libraries during fall.

No your friends don't hate you, you're just forgetting what your therapist said again. You need to stop blasting chase atlantic so damn loudly at 3 A.M to avoid your suicidal thoughts and sob in the arms of your best friend instead. u need to stop wondering if u are just crinkled linens on an unmade bed for others. When u accidentally spill an entire cup of coffee over your notes, u need to stop cursing and calling yourself an idiot, instead, take a paper towel and clean it up and when u do, pat yourself for saving the day. I know u have journals but u never use them, u think they're too pretty to be used and I agree but at the end of the day, u need to spill your thoughts out somewhere so use the journals, they would love to console you, trust me. When u feel un-safe, don't pick on the satin edges of your turquoise blanket and make it tattered, wrap yourself up in it instead, it'll keep you safe between it's warmth. The frost on your heart won't always be there, you're just wine drunk and dear eros, yes the eros reading this post, you're as beautiful as the legends says.