i will never like flowers

11:07 PM

I look better with streaks of makeup caked on my face, after a night of binge drinking in the bathtub. I'll eventually peel myself up off of the tile, but not without that stretch of skin that slightly sticks because I like my water fucking hot. You like that, and I'm angry. For multiple reasons, some of which I really shouldn't share, however, if you catch me on a good day I'm known to spill everything.

You've thought about me here, lying helpless on the cold ground. What could you do? Fuck me? Love me? Tell me your story and I'll tell you mine and now we share the world. You may be miles away and I may only have this glass and steamy water to give me away. I'm not afraid to wrap up, I look innocent when in truth if you count the freckles on my shoulder each one is a story of a time I messed up, ruined a life, left someone stranded, gotten my heart broken. Is it possible to even feel positive about a situation so negative? After failed attempt after failed attempt and new situations clouding every shred of what I once thought was brilliant and life-changing? Good hell, I've been doing this far too long.

I sure do look pretty when I'm bawling my god damned eyes out.

Bad decisions happen, don't we all go there at some point? THREE YEARS. And then a few short weeks and everything culminates with me here, in this bathroom, only wanting to confide in the sippy cup and somber music I've grown accustomed to. I sound like a transient lush but that probably suits me. Starvation and the constant need for approval aren't as craved without somebody dropping a hard-boiled egg in my lap and telling me I need to eat it before I pass out. Some people just don't understand that the egg yolks burn my throat.

I always answer. I can't not answer. I have this vision that I don't, I leave the message unopened and unthoughtabout and it actually stirs a reaction that maybe I don't give a damn anymore and the crutch that has been oh so reliable becomes cracked in the middle and I'm going to splinter your arm if you try to lean again. I have to take a stand somewhere. I have to realize that people are not my thing, I probably should enjoy the company of this entire room, this bathroom where I write, I feel, I talk to myself about what the hell I'm doing and what the hell I shouldn't be doing and I sip, sip, sip and somber music, somber music, somber music, and you know what? I'll fucking answer, just give me a minute.

My contacts burn my eyes though it's a lot easier to keep them in than to take them out and risk losing them, again. So in addition to every aspiration, I had in this future endeavor with love and life my eyes also hurt like a bitch.

Good thing emotions decided to surface because that curbs the sting better than your words ever did.

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