Scraps From Today

Just saw Heretic and it is so right about the inherent horror in questioning your beliefs, in the dawning realization that the people you trusted were lying to you (sometimes, intentionally), and that the quest for truth can feel like a slow descent into the pit.

Open

You see, the thing is, some people can just open up. 

They can just crack their hearts open. 

Spill out the truth. 

I can’t. 

I won't. 

Because if I did, everyone would think I was insane. 

Everyone would see me for what I really am. 

A mess. 

An unlovable mess. 

Used and disgusting

Fat and fake. 

Mean. 

Crazy. 

Damaged goods. 

That's who I am.

Not some put-together girl who has a few issues. 

Not someone who knows how to help. 

I can’t help. 

But I can make it worse. 

So much worse.

It would be so much worse if I opened up.

Trust me. 

Journal Page #3

My dream life

They are definitely my holy trinity.

Door open in my room

Now I lie in my bed

my window is open wide

I don’t have to be outside to feel the cool breeze

I can hear so much

The wind

The birds

My dog’s breath

My pen on paper

Leaves rustling

Cars rushing by

My brother’s laughter

And the tapping of my own fingers

The sky is turning purple

With the purple comes comes a cloud of calm

And a gust of joy

I want it to stay this way

(Perfect temperature, perfect sounds, perfect peace)

Forever.

first base is putting your cigarettes out on each other second base is psychosexual obsession third base is murder-suicide

what if we got lost in the woods & performed dark rituals & engaged in homoerotic acts of cannibalism to survive the frozen winter (and also we were girls)

she has little moon earrings- i have star clips in my hair. she goes to the local community college and plans on transferring to the major university- im in a sorority and my life is intertwined in the large school's greek life. she's a local- im seven hours away. she grew up on vast expanses of land, caring for life and surrounded by her family's love- i grew up in a cluttered house that sucked the soul out of anyone who dares to enter and every time I go home i lose a little part of myself. she listens- i talk. she calls be pretty and for once, i believe it. she smiles and i laugh in her tiny car and we stare at each other in the lamp light of a small parking lot after missing our desert reservations. she walks me to my car and we both ask if we could kiss each other, our laughter ringing in the air next to the papa john's we had to bathroom break in because we asked at the same time. she hesitates so i pull her in and it isn't rushed or desperate, it's just gentle and full of potential for something beautiful and she cradles my face and my hands are on her hips and we're next to my beat up car. she tastes like the chocolate milkshake from earlier that night and i can only assume i taste of the cigarette i smoked earlier on that she called "hot". she is a middle child and im the eldest and we still talk and she didn't ghost me and oh, I think something beautiful can come out of this.

Do people know about the impact of boobs69420

WARNING!