Today felt like a dream, literally. Portions of time felt erratically short but endless. Colors of purple and neon green would be blown out of cigarette smoke; my boyfriend’s face slowly being covered in psychedelic patterns whenever he looks at me. 3 hours of non stop fucking felt like two minutes, nothing in my vision was blurred out, I could see every little detail in everything. Mirrors would look like water, tattoos would lift up an inch from his skin. A room covered in plain, white paint would be a chance to create a new room that’s covered in thick glass, underwater. Everything felt slow, but thinking wasn’t a problem, thinking became clearer, thoughts became more creative. Small and big things looked like they were alive, breathing. Grass would make you apologize whenever you’d step on them and driving down roads felt like zooming through tunnels. It felt like there’s something to explore in everything, even posters - they looked like portals to other worlds. Blankets suddenly become covered in little sprouts, that would hide whenever I breathed, and would hug me when I stayed still. It was extraordinary but awesome.
I currently am stuck in a place and in a situation where I’m forced to wait for something to happen. I’m really worried and I don’t understand what would make her do this to herself. I want to cry but I can’t, crying is extremely relieving…or maybe take some high dose of dee dee ecstasy pills to take this away. I feel numb and overflowing with emotions at the same time. Is this how it’s supposed to feel?
"Perfect for me is just tea, white bedsheets, summer with windows open, naked with books next to you playing video games."
The temptation to jump into another relationship right away is revolting me. I don’t want to but it’s pathetic that I feel that I need someone to be there for me. My friends who are guys are…well they have gotten sweeter than they usually are and it’s bothering me. I don’t wanna lose ‘em but I feel that whenever I tell them I can’t be in a relationship, I end up doing so slowly. It’s just me, I’m not ready. As long as I’m living with my parents, no relationship can ever go well. Proof are my two failed relationships, both were irreplaceable but “fuck you,” said life.
I really, really hope I get the job. I extremely want to get out of this house and live on my own. Hell I know it will be fucking hard but it beats wasting every irreplaceable second of my life bound to rules.
Him: Don't touch my face it's sunburnt.
Me: Holy shi-- are you alright? -dips hands in iced water-
Him: It's not funny.
Me: -touches his face-
Him: Oh. Oh my god. This feels so good, keep your hands there. Erghgjhf.
And she did it. Blood was sliding down her arms, she looked at herself and wondered why she wasn’t weeping. It’s in the middle of her torso, hugged by two big biological air filters and guarded constantly by an even ribbed cage. Hands searching for some real emotional thudding, she felt numb— lethargic. Visions blurred, she couldn’t tell if it was from the cigarette smoke or that she was losing too much blood, she was already covered in it. Maybe it was so but she was completely indifferent, feeling that kind of pain would make other pains incomparable, “I’ll be stronger,” she thought. Slicing one final cut, her quivering breathing returned to normal. Her hands stained the bathroom door, she cleaned herself, covered her wounds up carefully then she went out running to hug the guy that hurt her worse than her blades.
I want to slice your back into perfect puzzle portions with a lancet. My white gloves would be tainted heavily with red, it would look like paint and you would be my vindictive masterpiece. Catching my breath under my earloop mask, you would be panting on the floor, forcing your bleeding wrists out of tight fiber ropes. You’d think I’d take pity on your pathetic state but then again, I’m the one holding the rusty, dirty blade. Trying to speak under two layers of packaging tape on your mouth, you’re only really permitted to utter vowels. You being the way you are, I’d just shut the door, not looking back and mutter “bitch” under my hot, exhausted breath. Tell me, how does it feel?
And I just want to touch her skin with my lips, she would always smell nice, her random giggles comfort me so I’d kiss her more. She’ll just lay on my bed, she’d be perfect, if only she could stay there. Clothes on the floor and nothing but blankets, she would talk to me while playing with my hair. My face would always be half an inch away from her ribs, it’s where I’m most comfortable. Hours of movies and drunken words, we’d fall asleep to her favorite music.
I usually have empty thoughts when I blow smoke out my nostrils. But tonight you linger out and in my head, on repeat. The sky, it’s tainted with yellow lights, I can’t even see stars anymore. Sky, you look hideous. Sitting here would be less cold if you had me inside your sweater, or maybe if my face was on your hot skin. That sounds nice. Shivering wrists and cigarette ashes, here’s to another night.