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what the hell is wrong with me?

i curled, a dry citrus peel.
muscle scraped from flesh and slowly eaten,
like so many grapefruits.

we argued last night.
you slammed the screen door when you left and i jumped.
i always hated when you did that.

I'm really about to fucking hit my art teacher. So I'm in a bad mood? Who gives a fuck? I'm going to fucking hit her if she says one more thing about permament PMS. I really will. I'm too angry to paint. Angry at myself. Angry at my art teacher. Angry at the world. Angry at my stupid painting. Angry at my complete inability to express my rage.

Ille mî pâr esse deô vidêtur ( Read more... )

ugh. I'm at school. I feel like hell. Although the two are directly related, this instance is made worse today. I'VE BEEN ON THE RAG FOR THREE FUCKING WEEKS AND MY VAG HURTS. I CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS BEFORE I UNDERTAKE A HOME HYSTERECTOMY. I MEAN WTF!?

a trail of random cutlery cuts a dash in the concrete underpass
sense of serenity shattered in the glint of splintered glass.
nerves.

fuck fucking tess of the d'ubervilles and fuck wimberly. fuck school and fuck my parents too. fuck life in general because no one here gives a fuck anyway.

"i missed you today after i dropped you off ( Read more... )

( Read more... )