#kuolettaa

Miten vitussa mun olis tarkotus puhua jotaki englantia ku ees suomi ei taitu tähän aikaan

I've been planning my own funeral in the back of my head constantly for two days now and I've come to the conclusion that no one should wear black or grey. To my funeral people would come in the brightest yellows pinks and blues they own. Wear fucking neons. Wear white. Come to my funeral in your most glittery damn discoball dress you own. Bring colourful flowers and forget the basic bitch red roses. Dance your way to your seat. Sing songs of joy. Eat my mother's cinnamon rolls. Talk and dance and drink. Celebrate the fact that you are still here and alive and celebrate the fact that I don't have to, anymore. When I was fourteen I knew I wouldn't probably see the day I turn 18. For two days I've been googling fatal drug portions and ways to not wake up anymore. I feel as if the last straw was today. I'm most definitely not going to kill myself, mostly because I don't want my best friend to get a tattoo of a tombstone that says "oops". I don't want them to try and put their heart back together with band-aids and glue. I don't want them to start reblogging and saving sad quotes again. I don't want her to see the yellow wall we took pictures in front of and break down. I don't want her to learn to play the guitar. I still want to die but I haven't yet figured out how I could go quietly. Without goodbyes and letters. They say a tree falling doesn't make a sound when nobody's there to hear it. I want to go like that.

Elämä on asia jonka unohdin kotiin tänään.

Ei saatana jätkät oon ollu tunnin hereillä (kello atm 4:47) koska mun huoneessa on v i t t u hyttynen Luoja armahda mut

EN TYKKÄÄ YHTÄÄ KU KOKOAJAN VAA AHISTAA