i get it

this is the part where i throw in the towel

i'm done, i'm done, you win you win you fucking win

BEAUTIFULLY DISEASED.

yes sometimes.

Right now, I feel so small and I don't know why. Like, when we're little kids and our feet swing back and forth in the air because our feet can't reach the ground in that big chair. It's sad. I feel sad. I feel like you don't want to bemy friend anymore but I love you SO MUCH IT HURTS, okay?

What's there to give when one's given up and given in?

this is filled with questions I fear will never be answer. why can't I get what I deserve for putting up with all this?

the sunset in my heart is blue and silver.

we are the cure, we are the curse. walk with me. I can hardly stand it any longer. Perhaps I'm just trying to reassure myself of the inner workings. That I might be better (even though I'm not -- I am -- I'm not). Funny how when I write the keyboard registers mere fragments of my words and I have to edit it. Perhaps it's trying to tell me something. I guess I just speak in fragments.

"and we are so alone"

I'm still freezing cold and drowning in my daydreams. my eyes are the only part of my body i can stand at this rate. maybe if I knew who I was already I could spend the time I would have spent discovering myself being productive. who knows really

I've lost it to sugary drinks and small bits of white.

how sad is it that I can't remember what makes me happy?

I can barely remember my own name half the time, let alone how I felt maybe a week ago maybe a month ago maybe yesterday. Stuck in now, waiting for then to catch up. I'll wait this lifetime and maybe the next. There is a lot of uncertainty here.

Oh obviously I'm not the right one for you.

Icy water is where I need to be. old fingers meet young hands. new friends meet old strangers.

ties break and I am caught in the inbetween, oh god please save me now

to my unconceived child

I'm writing this letter to you as though you were alive and able to read this. I hope that by the time you are the age I am now, you know more than I do. I am a different person than I was even in September. I have made more mistakes than I am willing to say. I have not lived life as I should, choosing instead to lament. Even this letter is self-serving. I hope for you to read this and say, "Wow, my mother is/was/maybe will never be a wise lady."

Perhaps you will never come. It is far too early to tell.

I want you to live your life as I am not living. Be yourself and don't be self conscious. Somehow I know that you're beautiful and I want you to show that beauty. Smile and scream to the sun. Do not lie down and wait for something to take you. a that chance. If I am there I will hold you up but you will have to fly away on your own. And I will sob and wave goodbye as you make the ascent. It will be nothing short of breathtaking.

You will go further than I can. You will reach the stars when I could only reach the clouds.

I still don't know where life will take me. I think you will come along but it's a matter of when. I hope I can remember this letter to you and leave it for you after I'm gone (but not necessarily after I'm dead). You will sit by my bedside and read this and cry. Or maybe you won't cry. I know somehow you are stronger than I will ever be. I already love you and I don't even know you. Isn't that something.

Be true. Stay gold. Be all the things you read in books but mostly be who you are in your heart.

I wish you everything,
your maybe mother

"just because you're suicidal doesn't mean you can't clean your room".

it's hard to discover that.

and i'm afraid of so many things and i just CAN'T be happy anymore. it's probably hormones, it's probably your body, it's probably this and that. that's all fine and dandy but i want to know what it ACTUALLY is.

you make me want to throw up in the best way possible!

what lovely images. and you're a girl! gender fucking sucks.

stupid STUPID STUPID.

I can no longer sleep. perhaps I can get peace soon? diving headfirst into my own grave!

young, romantic, childish. i wanted the blindness to spread across my cheek like the ash i dipped my hands in. the joy rained into my mouth, got in my eyes -- i laughed as only one spurned by love could. i kicked my feet and laughed till the blood on my teeth dripped to my lips and stained my chin as if it were cloth. a portrait of the dead to hang on the wall, i ascended the stairs in hopes of finding the muddy footprints of my true sweetheart. instead i found you as the portrait, alive and whimpering as teenaged jaded christ, nails through palms and grime halo round the head. i finished what i started