I pity the woman who will love you
when I am done. She will show up
to your first date with a dustpan
and broom, ready to pick up all the pieces
I left you in. She will hear my name so often
it will begin to dig holes in her. That
is where doubt will grow. She will look
at your neck, your thin hips, your mouth,
wondering at the way I touched you.
She will make you all the promises I did
and some I never could. She will hear only
the terrible stories. How I drank. How I lied.
She will wonder (as I have) how someone
as wonderful as you could love a monster
like the woman who came before her. Still,
she will compete with my ghost.
She will understand why you do not look
in the back of closets. Why you are afraid
of what’s under the bed. She will know
every corner of you is haunted
…Spend a little more time trying to make something of yourself and a little less time trying to impress people.
I live in my own little world. But its ok, they know me here.
hair is not permanent. baths will make u sleepy and so will lotion. if u aren’t up for school don’t fucking go. u don’t need to explain urself. it’s ok to give in to societies expectations sometimes. girl sweat is a gift from whatever the fuck u believe in. just bcause u can,doesn’t mean u should. bring food with u everywhere and don’t hesitate to eat it. ur aren’t as bloated as u think u r. write things on ur hands.
You have to find the right distance between people. Too close, and they overwhelm you, too far and they abandon you.
can i apologize in advance for basically everything i will ever do