I’m sick of working hard for nothing. I’m sick of my fuckin’ luck. Nothing good ever fuckin’ lasts.
I had one of the best nights of my life. With you.(:
I was attacked nine days before Christmas… And I’m wishing he really did have a gun. Knowing I could have escaped just makes me feel like a failure.
I love how your scent lingers on my skin after we part ways.
I literally have nothing to say. To anyone.
i think that one detention with you yesterday couldnt have made my heart sink deeper into my stomache.
I looked through every photo album in my house. There are absolutely no pictures of me before age 5. And I have one album. My sisters have four.
Oh my god… I just re-read what I wrote about my insecurities against men… This is all your fucking fault. Kill yourself.
I died a little when you walked into the detention room and sat down next to me
