backhandedrat

[backhandedrat]

how is it possible to love someone as much as i love this boy.

he is the moon and i am the tides.

he is the dirt to which i am the flower.

he's half of my heart and i am half of his soul.

[backhandedrat]

did we mess up?

[backhandedrat]

when I’m down

You’re there

when I’m nervous

You’re there

now when it seems I have everything I will want

you’re distant

[backhandedrat]

i am

I am five. Maybe I am six. The sunlight shines through the doorway, and onto the floorboards. Beneath my feet, dozens of cheerios lay where I had dropped them. I am marching through my house, a blanket draped across my shoulders. My brother toddles behind me. My dog follows, eating the cheerios off the floor. I am a princess, they are my knights in shining armor.

I am fifteen now. My dog is dead. My house belongs to a new owner, with wild boys who swing from vines around the neighborhood. My parents will never love each other again. Nothing is the same.

I am in love now. 

Not with the boy I got married to when I was little. I think he is in jail now. His blue house and crazy Uncle have gotten old in ten years.

The boy I am in love with is Max. He is handsome and wonderful and not a boy that I deserve. He makes me happy. I think I make him happy. Sometimes, I’m not sure. Sometimes, he cries because of me. Sometimes, I do things to make him cry.

Sometimes.

Sometimes.

Sometimes.

I am not a good person now. I do drugs and I hurt my best friend when she needed me the most. I hurt her. But she also hurt me.

I think all I do is hurt people.

I am ten. It is finally summer and the dress my mother wears is loose and dances in the warm wind. I am playing soccer with my brother. We are supposed to be raking the leaves. The ball rolls down the hill that takes over my yard. I don’t know that my brother is in the garage when I chase the ball into the stream. I don’t know that a wasp snuck into the garage. I don’t know he screams.

I do know the roughness of my mother’s hand on my cheek. I know the pain in the arch of my back from being pushed into my dresser. I know the smell of beer on her breath. I know the knives she throws with her voice. I know this moment will stay with me forever.

I know.

I know.

I know.

I am thirteen. My mother has kicked me out. 

I am still fifteen. The boy I love is beginning to not love me.

I am too broken to be loved.

I am too sad to keep writing.

[backhandedrat]

sometimes i

can't

breathe

[backhandedrat]

no one can separate me and her as we are both 1x2 skinny (legos ofc) ❤️

[backhandedrat]

opening the window at night is like breathing through 3 of my nostrils

[backhandedrat]

i'm scared to write. it's been a while. my heart is beating out of my chest. I'm forcing my lungs to breathe. It's been 5 months.

[backhandedrat]

stinky water not for the faint of heart…

only few can do what I do.

[backhandedrat]

back handing rat is my past time

augh hhhhh

[backhandedrat]

the bug are crawling one by one HOORAH HOORAH (under your skin)

[backhandedrat]

rocks USUALLY hurt my fingers

not always tho…

[backhandedrat]

take off your skin ☹️😞