186 someday i'll look back on this and i'll either laugh or cry


i can't let thing i love the most come second to the voices screaming at me to etch away the lines of my body, turn myself into bones and dirt under my fingernails and shaky bruised knees

i'm not tired. there's something about being home that won't let me sleep. my bed is too big and i'm too small (but i'm not small enough i'm never small enough) and my room is so full but it's just too empty

it's weird, what we have. do we have something or am i letting myself dream? i can't imagine you doing this but i wonder do you think of me and pick up your phone and put it back down again because you think i won't answer
(i will answer)

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