I don’t think I’ve ever been as high as I was just earlier
I was pretyy drunk too
I went home and I’ve thrown up a little
I don’t think I should have gone
all we ever were was red paint on smooth wood
and a crooked bruise on porcelain skin
you were a year and a half deep into a faraway heart
while I spent too much time missing softer movements
and blue walls
I wish everybody would leave me alone about “sizing up too fast” like sorry ? I guess?? these are my ears and ill size up at whatever pace I want. yall are losing ur minds about sizing up every week, I’m not gonna fuckin die dude omg
I’m only living for the next time I can pop a pill
I’d kill myself tonight if I weren’t buying stuff tomorrow
I. Those of us born by water are never afraid enough of drowning. Bruises used to trophy my knees from my death-defying tree climb jumps. Growing up, my backyard was a forest of blackberry bushes. I learned early nothing sweet will come to you unthorned.
II. At twelve your body becomes a currency. So Jenny and I sat down and cut up all our clothes into nothing. That year I failed math class but knew the exact number of calories in a carrot stick. I learned early being desired goes hand in hand with hunger.
III. The last time I tried to scream I felt my father climbing up through my throat and into my mouth.
IV. There is a certain kind of girl who reads Lolita at fourteen and finds religion. I painted my eyes black and sucked barroom cherries to red my tongue. There was a boy who promised Judas really did love Jesus. I learned early every kiss and betrayal are up for interpretation.
V. I think he must have conferenced with my nightmares on exactly how to hurt me.
VI. He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.
II. At twelve your body becomes a currency. So Jenny and I sat down and cut up all our clothes into nothing. That year I failed math class but knew the exact number of calories in a carrot stick. I learned early being desired goes hand in hand with hunger.
III. The last time I tried to scream I felt my father climbing up through my throat and into my mouth.
IV. There is a certain kind of girl who reads Lolita at fourteen and finds religion. I painted my eyes black and sucked barroom cherries to red my tongue. There was a boy who promised Judas really did love Jesus. I learned early every kiss and betrayal are up for interpretation.
V. I think he must have conferenced with my nightmares on exactly how to hurt me.
VI. He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.
“
| — | Clementine von Radics, In Defense of Loving Him (after Megan Falley) |
