if you were going to say it, you could have said it to me.

you don't know me.
you don't know anything about me.
what gives you the audacity to think that you can pass judgment about my character?
if you want to take it upon yourself to "help" me because you think i need it so much, go right the fuck ahead.
if you feel like you need to actually condescend to assist me because i would obviously just appreciate it so much,
go right the fuck ahead.

you're a hypocrite. you think i need your help?
no. you're the one that needs help.

bitch.

baby britain feels the best
floating over a sea of vodka.

i don't like being taken for granted.

don't think that you can just blow me off, and that i will keep standing here waiting eagerly for you to come back.

because one day, you'll turn around and i won't be there anymore.

and all the styrofoam
began to melt away.

close your eyes, clear your heart.

cut the cord.

you're the right kind of sinner.

you're a heartbreaker, dream-maker, lovetaker,
don't you mess around with me.

tell me, tell me;
what makes you think that you are invincible?
i can see it in your eyes, but you're so sure.
please don't tell me that i'm the only one that's vulnerable,
impossible.

i've recently had urges to take shears to my hair.
to let it fall, lock by lock, until the only thing left would leave me completely unrecognizable.
as if shedding something so attached to me would inherently let me shed myself.

where is your boy tonight?

it's the only place i've ever felt completely at peace.
the only place i've ever felt completely connected to anyone, to everyone.
i'm convinced if i can go back, and take someone who means everything to me, things will be okay.


it's not your fault. it's not your fault. it's not your fault. it's not your fault.
(don't you fuck with me. not you.)

FUCK ENZYMES.

i deserve better than this.

you make me feel absolutely helpless.
what am i supposed to do?

oh, vienna, where i first found love again.

the inside of my mouth has tasted like blood for days.

you love me 'cause i'm fragile,
but i thought that i was strong.
then you touch me for a little while
and all my fragile strength is gone.

where do you turn when the world comes crashing down around you?
when the inner dome of heaven crashes and shatters like ice from birch trees, who hears you screaming?
who will keep you safe in the eye of a storm?
who will hold your hand when you walk through fire?

keep me safe inside your arms like towers,
tower over me.

sometimes i wonder what makes me feel.
if you think about every single human emotion within a biological sphere of thought, everything anyone feels should be a strength, should make you, as an organism, strong enough to live long enough to propagate your genes. any trait that should be carried into the future must be one that gives your offspring a better chance of survival.

so why want something so badly that it hurts?
why cling almost electrostatically to something that will only destroy you?
why even feel at all?
letting yourself feel only gets you hurt.

but maybe numbness could hurt even more.
if only congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis
extended to emotions,
i would be unbreakable.

but CIPA leaves you without any feeling at all.
and you don't know when you're hurt.
would you rather feel and be hurt, or not feel at all?

"you're always preaching not to be numb when that's how you thrive.
you pretend to create and observe when you really detach from feeling alive."
"perhaps that's because i'm the one of us to survive."
"poor baby."

(don't call me that.)

at the risk of sounding like an obsessed fangirl,

CHELSEA AND I WERE LESS THAN FIVE FEET AWAY FROM PETE WENTZ.
HE ALMOST TOUCHED US.
ALMOSSSSSTTTT.

and i will marry gabe saporta.

i think i just got my life back.

< /APUSH >

i really really hate
when i'm upset about something
and people tell me that
"it's not a big deal."

come together, right now, over me.