yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


these years have not been particularly kind. when it all began, i was 16, red haired, chubby, had been cutting my arms and carrying on half-hearted affairs with men twice my age. but now, now what? lost all ambition and feeling like the concept of money will never click. oh, for this man, i would cook and clean and make love once daily, maybe even twice.

i'm nearly 21. my thighs are slim now. two years in the bottle can make skin thin. i dont eat, i just wait for the sun to go down and i head down to the bar. i get wasted and dream of my sister and drunkenly slap myself across the face in the bathroom, whispering her name, sometimes faintly shrieking. i look, i'm so lovely now, so good on the outside. i dont know what i would do if i could see this from someone elses point of view, but i'd probably get that fucking girl some help. my dreams are filled with my sister pulling at collars and revealing scars where her heart was removed and donated to someone who ate too much cholesterol. she, with that heroin needle, secured my life as unstable. these rehabs and fucking hospitals.

but this drama, it bores me now. i thought all these things were so terrific. i used to dream of my own funeral. i used to almost want to be raped. i was/am a bottomless pit of need, a senseless void. it's so sad how decieving my appearance has become. i'm the queen of this town, so self-absorbed and filthy. i could rule you, too, and if you dont think so, just let me try.

d-land