late-night-memories

[late-night-memories]

Red is slowly becoming her favorite color, a secret color she wears at home. it covers her wrist and her thighs, dripping            down                      down                                down into her palms as she curls closer in on herself. she didn't go to school that day, she hasn't even left her bed. her music blasting through her headphones she felt the burn spread across her body. They both did their best to stave off her thoughts, but she still couldn't help but think back to those messages

"My day's been worse than yours!" she was right, of course. her best friend was going through much worse times then her, why does she get to stay home feeling sorry for herself? she doesn't deserve the relief from her mind, but what can she say?

she's selfish.

she turns back to her wrist, staring at the blood dripping down the side of her arm.  

she's so fucking selfish.

[late-night-memories]

Darkness

Darkness has never been so interesting. At least that's what she thinks as she stares into nothingness. She's cut off from the outside world, though it doesn't make much of a difference.

no one else is awake at 3 in the morning.

so she stares, eyes burning at the ceiling. she wishes there were glow stars up there, she wishes she could sleep outside, looking at the real stars, but it's cold and she'd get sick. she laughs, she's already sick, just not in the ordinary sense. not in the way she could stay home from school with. she glanced at her phone, three hours till she has to wake up. she laughs grimly again, what's the point? not like it matters, she's failing anyways.

she wishes she could call in depressed from school.

she stared at her bookshelf, where she knows the blades are neatly tucked away. one slice and the void in her chest would go away, two or three for the feeling to come back to her arms, then a few more for her legs.

she rolls over, she doesn't think her legs would even support her if she tried to stand up. she picks up her phone again and sighs, her boyfriend had told her to sleep well.

she clicked it off and tossed it onto the pile of neglected clothes in the corner. staring back up at the ceiling she wondered if he knew, wasn't like she hid it well (only so much you can do about dark circles under your eyes.) she wondered if it was all some sick joke, lying about liking her to mess with her emotions. she wondered if her best friend was in on it, she was quite keen on getting them together, maybe they're all laughing about it behind her back. she wouldn't be surprised, that's why she has to be distant, act like she doesn't care as much as she does, she won't be hurt by this. she refuses.

she rolls over again to star back at the ceiling.

she really missed glow stars.

[late-night-memories]

Sometimes I feel like I dont deserve to talk about queer struggles

Because I grew up in an accepting house

And it wasnt so bad that my dad made passing homophobic comments, or my friends parents woupdnt let me stay the night bc I "looked like a lesbian" or id get dirty looks.

Bc for the most part in safe.

It could be worse.

But then I realize, it could be worse doesnt negate the shit that happend to me.

[late-night-memories]

Sometimes I wish I was old enough to drink so I wouldnt have to keep swiping other people's voldka.

[late-night-memories]

A song I'll never write

My heart belongs to you, though I know you love her. I guess that's why I hold resentment for such a pretty girl.

She really is lovely, im glad you found her. Were both trapped in this cold harsh sociaty so im glad she makes it better.

It doesn't mean I'm not bitter to know you hold her close. Because she keeps you warm while I'm stuck out here in the cold.

[late-night-memories]

"Never buy me flowers, just lie with me here. Flowers are for the dead, my dear, its hours that are for the living"

-A poem I'll never write

[late-night-memories]

It's strange to remember that I'm not a little kid anymore. That when I scrape my knee my mother wont be there to scoop me up and but a mickey mouse bandaid on it.

It's an awful feeling, growing up. Because now in covered in mickey kous bandaids that I put on myself and a constant threat of tears in the back of my eyes because no ones here to hold me and tell me "its gonna be okay" anymore