make-sure-it-hurts

[make-sure-it-hurts]

God how I'm trying to savor this pain. Maybe if I can convince myself to crave it, it won't hurt as bad. a bit of Indulgence every night

[make-sure-it-hurts]

I wish you made me feel the way I try to make you feel.

[make-sure-it-hurts]

Log on. Display mental illness. Sexualize the fictional murderer.

[make-sure-it-hurts]

my mum’s taking my dog to get his nuts removed today

[make-sure-it-hurts]

I know that cycling is fun and good for you and all but goddamn nothing is more frustrating than getting stuck behind squadrons of cyclists on winding rural roads with no way to pass them for miles. Please... some of us live here... we have to get to work...

[make-sure-it-hurts]

I love you more.

That's what I say because I don't know how to tell you more than what..

More than abandoned cigarettes.

More than music so loud you can't think.

More than smoke clouds in the middle of winter nights.

More than the scream erupting from the bellows of my dark and damaged soul that you've been pouring light into.

More than cold lungs in the middle of a high.

More than my favorite song while going down the highway faster than the speed light.

So much it hurts.

So much that I'm terrified of the one wrong step that will send me falling, plunging back into the sea of ink that stole me from myself.

It's an obsession that makes my head and heart throb.

The most beautiful pain I've ever felt is turning me into a masochist with no sense of self preservation. Like a dead rose bush that starts to bloom again, fighting against snow and ash and the odds.

You're everywhere but next to me.

You're in my favorite colors, I hear you screaming along in the background of my favorite song, I feel you in the dark when the night seems to last forever.

You pick my brain apart and stutter my speech. You break me apart peice from piece, explaining where each part came from. Disecting me like a mad scientist, teaching me about myself in ways no one has ever seen.

I'm a bitter poison but you stir in milk and sugar like I'm a cup of tea.

I am a rabid dog hiding in a dark alley, confused as to why you're throwing scraps instead of rocks.

You are so imperfectly perfect, and I can't find the words to tell you.

[make-sure-it-hurts]

What if we both dropped everything and ran away to some city where nobody knows who we are? What if we slept in our car and everyone felt sorry for us but even though I cant afford my meds its the happiest I've ever been? What if one of us hung out in the alleyway behind where the other works smoking stolen cigarettes and writing music just to steal a kiss when they came out to toss the trash? What if we performed together at that underground punk bar for tips because the owner agreed if we clean the place after? And what if we got done super early in the morning and we went and got food from some obscure hole in the wall or food truck and shared a dr pepper or a milkshake and then shot gunned a cigarette on the sidewalk after?  What if we cut eachothers hair with craft scissors from the dollar store and I mended the holes in your favorite jacket? What if we walked down the middle of the street while everyone was sleeping and tried to be quiet but end up laughing and screaming because we just cant control ourselves? What if we stargazed on top of some random building and fell asleep there?

What if we got matching tattoos that dont mean shit but mean everything because we got them together? What if I locked your initials around my neck so that everyone knows I'm yours?

What if we went to protests together and held hands while flipping off cops?

What if we fixed our hair in their shields?

What if we chainsmoked under a bridge while taking photos with the graffiti?

What if we went back home just to set out abusers houses on fire and watch from across the street while drinking monsters?

What if we made matching patches for our pants and sewed them on to eachothers pants?

What if we ran away together?

Please run away with me.

[make-sure-it-hurts]

[make-sure-it-hurts]

𝗥𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴 𝗶𝗳 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗼𝗸 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗳 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶̀𝗳țěř𝘀̧ 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 (𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀)

[make-sure-it-hurts]

If you have ever

-had sex with a crust punk

-honestly just been in the general vicinity of a crust punk

-smoked half a cigarette you found on the side of the road

-been to a Hollywood Undead concert (or any alt concert really)

You dont have to worry about what's in ths vaccine

[make-sure-it-hurts]

*shotguns a dr pepper*

Two shots of vodka

[make-sure-it-hurts]

Me: enjoying a nice cup of tea while my cat chills on my lap

My intrusive thoughts: pour it on him

[make-sure-it-hurts]

When you choke them and their eyes roll back and their tongue falls out. It's like a personal renaissance painting.

[make-sure-it-hurts]

I am a God. Worship me. I am a Devil. Fear me. My teeth are sharp but my eyes are kind. My touch is soft but my rage is harder than stone. My tears white hot and my soul burning cold.

I'm a walking contradiction darling. I know nothing for certain except that when I die, no one will weep.

[make-sure-it-hurts]

I cry for help. No one listens past the first scream anymore

[make-sure-it-hurts]

I don't think it's getting any better

[make-sure-it-hurts]

Everything feels like it's in black and white, but the pain is a vivid color