Mockingjay

I'm so sorry I have been extremely offline on Tumblr and I just saw ur message. Even apart from that, I'm a student and I don't have any money of my own so I couldn't have helped u if I had tried. Please let me know if things have gotten better for you though I'm so sorry

I run in circles just to crawl back to you, home.

I think I've run out of things to write about like the fact that I crave greatness so much that it can't be called ambition anymore. It can't be called determination or perseverance or even greed- it's a kind of starvation. You see, ambition couldn't destroy you half as much as hunger will. This yearning and longing and craving- it claws at the insides of my stomach. Ambition doesn't make you want to tear the flesh off your bones. Ambition doesn't feel like it's twisting your guts. Ambition doesn't feel like it's turning your skin inside out. And I don't think you can call it ambition - the way that I can still feel last night's dinner up my throat. They say that it's this desire to be great that makes me destined for glory, and honestly, I hope they are right because I would choose burning to nothing over falling short of the stars, because sometimes I think it's a classic case of Icarus and that I'm flying too close to the sun but is it bad that I would rather crash and burn than not reach the top at all? Sometimes it makes me wonder if I'm starving by choice. Am I starving because I'm not good enough for me yet or am I starving because nothing will ever be?

And I will pretend it's fine and I didnt like you all that much but maybe one day I'll come back here and find this once again. Maybe I'll have a new life, a new person who wears my shirt in my daydreams and has to eat those burnt pancakes, but I feel like I'd still look back and you'd still be the one that got away. And I will take the harder path just so you hate me less when it’s all done because I'd rather let it be something we will never know than death by a thousand cuts. So we can look back years later and say to ourselves that it was meant to be just not meant to last and it was the right person just the wrong time, that maybe it’s us in another life. Maybe in an alternate dimension, you are walking into the kitchen at 11 am, wearing my shirt and the world is dipped in yellow and I can feel it against my lips when you smile and we can stand here forever before we run out of time.

I think I'm a bad person in the sense that my brain is wired in all the wrong ways. I think I'm a bad person in the sense that I was nothing before I was fucked up. I think I'm a bad person in the sense that my mother always called me a narcissist and I had taken several quizzes to check just in case she was right before I was even 12. I think I'm a bad person in the sense that I'm a bad person to fall for. I think I'm a bad person in the sense that I say a lot of things I don't mean just because I think you want me to. I think I'm a bad person in the sense that I could feed you the prettiest of poems without meaning a word.

Scribble poetry on the back of every book like it's a relegion, and you, a saint, because it doesn't matter if this is your downfall as long as you know enough legends' to compare it to.

:)))) <3

Because I climb out of Tartarus and your Gods cower in fright.

I know I'm great at writing ending but didn't you know that when it came to you, i could have gone on forever? I could have kept writing and I don't think I would ever have gotten tired of it. Tell me why you had to go and tear half of my love story down? Tell me why you had to leave me in the middle of the salvages of these inked pages, mascara running down my cheeks, (mascara that was way too expensive to ruin over you, now that I come to think about it) wondering where I fucked up?