the diary of a girl who doesn't know how to do this anymore
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but
i try to recreate what
the sweep of your fingertips
across my skin felt like
but my fingers aren't yours.
i close my eyes and imagine
what we could be doing right now
with my cold body and your permanent heat
but im ice and you want water.
i make playlists
that i want to show you
as you kiss me
but you don't want to kiss me anymore.
i think of what
i want to tell you about me
because you said you want to know me
but i no longer interest you.
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I wanted to be physically erased and start over again. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be there. I guess I wanted to be nowhere, I wanted to listen to my brain talk inside of nothingness. I wanted to be untouchable and have no need.
David Wojnarowicz, from Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration (via velvetnyc)
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i get high
just so that
for a little while
i don’t feel low
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mom?
you’re right.
after these two years
two long years full of sadness and pain
i’ve truly come to realize
mother
that you’re right:
it should have fucking been me
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will-ted
once
i swore i saw you
walking
laughing
smiling
living
breathing.
in that moment
my heart stopped too;
my eyes closed
i stopped breathing
and for a moment
i was the one
who is what you are.
i was the one who is
dead
dead
dead
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unlovable
i cannot imagine
anyone really wanting to be with me
because even i
can’t stand me
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I wish we could go back to the way we used to be. I miss us.
(via love-diaries)
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dissapate
i’ve never wanted
to go out with a bang,
like how i don’t expect
people to notice
when i leave a room.
i am the burning ember
left after your raging fire;
dim and extinguishing
as i fade silently,
hurting nobody
and changing nothing
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heavy
i am scared to feel
because all i have ever felt
is the weight of the world
and the icy ache
of your absence
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erin dust
i tried to join you
tried to whittle myself
down to nothing.
the shavings of me
sent into the universe,
trying to find your matching pieces;
but people i trusted
wouldn’t let me
keep giving up pieces of myself
just to find someone
who wanted to be lost
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daydreams
i often ask myself
“why are you this way?”
not because i want to know,
or maybe even because i do,
but because if i pretend
not to know
maybe i can still imagine
you’re still here
or even dream
that i am not.
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trauma
if anyone can miss you
it’s me.
i miss you most
because all my memories,
a whole life’s worth,
have been ruined.
your warmth
your eyes
the smell of your shampoo
your laugh
our home
our blanket forts;
everything i remember
reminds me
of cold, stiff hands
empty stares
and your silent, unbeating heart
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skeleton
the only time i’ve ever been
happy with my body,
people couldn’t see erin
in that body.
in carving out erin,
i lost her.
i found my poison
and drank it too
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