damagedgoods
a speech or piece of writing that praises someone or something highly, typically someone who has just died.
Who would you want to write your eulogy? Theres no one I'd trust enough to write mine.
Here I am sitting on my sheetless bed, with a tank top too small and my computer resting on my lap. The thought of running away fills my mind, where would i go? who would i run to? who would be my retreat?
If beauty is only skin deep, why do I feel so insecure? Why do i feel like I am not beautiful? I am not good enough.
I speak so clearly, I voice what I want, what I need. But as a result, I am burned. Everyday I slowly become ashes.
All day I force feed my emotions into everything that will listen. When I was younger it was notebooks using the light from my ipod, and now its computer screens, ipad, iphone. Anything. It doesn't matter.
at 130am all i can think of is the chaos around me. what is it that is making my body and my mind crumble? will i survive? or will i fail?
I never really feel clean enough. my hair is always dirty looking. my eyes are always so droopy. is it the anxiety? my lack of motivation? my general displease for anything and everything? Is my soul clean? Am I clean?
the idea of growing older kills me. i cant be bothered to think ahead, to plan ahead. i have no master goal...
this isnt good for me, nor is it good for you. this is a tad bit ridiculous how we constantly play this game of chase, in what world is it fair?
beware of anything impure my mother had said, but i couldn't resist his lips - or his hand on my thigh. i couldn't resist the mistakes i knew i was bound to make. what was i thinking? if only i knew.
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