(no subject)
boysxkissingx: you know that part in titanic where rose is blowing the whistle and it's like she thinks if she stops blowing she'll never be found? that's me. i'm always sreaming for you to find me, even after i'm found.
the SPARKSterrr: you're just a writing machine today.
the SPARKSterrr: pump 'em out.
boysxkissingx: im also making exploding noises.
There is nothing beautiful about my beauty, just the beauty itself. I am the best of the best and the worst of the worst of myself, the probable filth of the world, rebellious hellion of disagreeable youth with unsmoked cigarettes and dying or dead rose petals. I am the unpainted portrait, as secretive and mysterious as Ms. Mona Lisa herself. I am the discarded novel, pages left unturned, judged swiftly by its cover and untold story. I am the common misconception, I am thousands of years of lies, and broken images.
I am your perfect disillusionment, I admittedly deny it. I am your dark hearted girl all dressed up, I've no problem admitting it. I am your poemless writer, your future-less fortune teller, full of lies and secrets and goodness. I am not sorry for my lack of perfection or professionalism. I am only sometimes scared to admit, I am lost in your shadow, best friend of mine, I am drowning though you refuse to let me go. I am stifled by your words of encouragement, because I'm almost nobody, best friend. I'm just a little girl wearing a woman's shoes.
VROOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!