insincerelya

[insincerelya]

i’ve got lots to say but not much time to say it.

[insincerelya]

i don’t know what to say when you ask me why ive been distant, why i don’t care anymore, why you weren’t good enough.

when you do, summer days flash through my head. in the backseat of your best friends car, seventy in a forty five, my favorite song on the radio.

i try to explain to you, that it was never you. it was never whispered ‘i love you’s’ or thongs quietly slipped in back pockets or the love bites on my neck.

its been two years and i still can’t find the words to explain that it will always be me, ready to run at any sight of something legitimate. i don’t know how to admit that when fight or flight kicks in, ill always go with flight.

[insincerelya]

I think about you a lot

[insincerelya]

“find someone not bored with your calm and unintimidated with your chaos”

— bemstar

[insincerelya]

i. i haven’t slept since the night we talked and everything you said you felt for me was past tense.

ii. no ones ever treated me as gently and thoughtfully as you. you’re the kindest, most warm hearted person i’ve ever met, and i wish i could forget that.

iii. you’re going to be so happy, so successful one day. i wish i could tell you this every day, until flowers blossom from what once was doubt. you’re going to deserve every bit of it.

iiii. i don’t know how close is too close with you. ive never known how to stop, and ive made the same mistake so many times.

v. the second time you left me was so much harder. it was sugar coated, sickly sweet with false promises of keeping in touch.

vi. your friendship will always come first to me. I’d do it all again just to have you by my side for one more day. I’d do all of this over again, as many times as you asked.

vii. i miss you, always

— excerpts from a letter I’ll never give you

[insincerelya]

i call myself a writer but i think, maybe, im just looking for a reason for all this sadness

like maybe if the tragedies that spill out of me are intricate enough, ill be able to make sense of them one day

[insincerelya]

39 (twitter)

[insincerelya]

5:02 am: i don’t know how i got here. naked on a back porch, puking amid fairy lights and fireflies. despite the acid in my stomach, the sun is rising in dark blue skies, and i feel im not deserving. mother nature has outdone herself, i can’t help but feel it’s for me

6:10 am: its been 46 hours and i haven’t slept. the feeling of poison sits heavy, in my mouth, down my throat, settles on an empty stomach

7:25 am: it’s funny, how i write about death until it’s morning and the birds are chirping and the poison settles in my system. it’s funny, how i write about death until it comes and then i refuse to shut my eyes

[insincerelya]

Sometimes I miss you; even when you’re here.

a.g.case

[insincerelya]

i’ve learned a lot about facing my fears lately

I remember being six and fearless. Six and indestructible. All might, all grit.

When I’m ten, my brother crashes our go kart. Two shots and five stitches later, I have this thought that maybe this idea of indestructible isn’t real. I let the thought roll around my concussed head, and forget it just as quick as it came.

I turn twelve, and people much older than me, hardened by life, teach me that fearless isn’t something little girls can be; little girls need to cower, need to hide in shadows.

And then I’m thirteen, stumbling into the worst things. Thirteen and so, so dumb. Thirteen and in a relationship with a twenty-something-year-old. Thirteen with crooked teeth and still somehow so strong in faith, full of a sense of indestructibility. Thirteen with something to prove.

Years pass, and fearlessness leaves me with each one that goes. At fifteen, my hands pick up a permanent shake. They turn the kind of bitter cold you can’t warm. I cower at raised voices, jump at loud noises. At sixteen, no one can touch me without me coming apart at every seem. At seventeen, everyone stops trying.

But then somehow, i’m nineteen, and my stomachs overflowing with swords and glass. I’m nineteen and I wake up one morning and I’m forced to face all of my fears, all at once. Adulthood has no time to stop, no time for me to say no. I’m nineteen and I’ve already been through it all, anyways.

[insincerelya]