-what do you think about?-

...just, about, you know, how much I hate myself. And how little control i have over my life, and, you know,  how worthless I am

I should stop asking questions if I don't have the balls to answer them myself.

But yeah. Worthless. That's something I've been tagging myself as lately

like, honest to fucking god I have no talents. I'm not spectacular at anything. I'm no good in the maths sciences, pretty fucking average at art in the long run and a good writer? Man, why would I even try to fool myself. I have no talents. Everyone who says so is a fucking liar. Honest to god.
                  
      

      de   a_r   l rd  forgive m_e for Iha  ve sin_ned.
This isn't a pity post. It's not asif anyone but spam pages break the walls of my blog anyways, so who would be there to pity me

the point is

i'm a shitfuckwaste of space

The only reason I'm sticking around,

                                       besides the fact that I'm too much of a wimp to do it?

is for the few people I know care

The people that I care about
who are so unstable
that me offing myself might push them upnover the e     d  g  e   if i


I'd just want to get away from everyone, right? Go to a land full of poppies and roses and night skies and vans and vagabonds. 

But I stay


And I hope i can impact the world or just an individual in some way in the future

I want to make a difference. 

I'm not going to be worthless for the rest of my life.

Who cares if I'm a fucking loser In highschool
           

                                               i do 

Who cares if everyone  thinks i'm an antisocial worthless fuck uped weirdo who tries to hard and is a total wannabe and has scars on her arms and gets fatter everyfuckin day and whos hair is falling out and doesn't grow anymore and spends her time at the nurses an dnever smiles and who walks hunched over and who doesn't fit the social stratosphere of what to wear and who do be and what to act like and how to laugh and what shoes to wear and what classes to take and who to socialize with and what shows to watch and what to do with my life and who to fuck and who to love and how to live. 

                                      i do

Who cares if i kill myself 

yeah

who cares.

         


                                                      God, I just really fucking hate myself.

At least the mountains are perfect. 

Hysterias

 The mountains can withstand wars and catastrophes and still stand silently watching and protecting and thinking about us humans for ages

The moon can illuminate all my hysteria and apathy and empathy and sorrows
and i;m lost in the thought of my future

paralyzed by the incessant tides of my confusion and hate and

 loss of selfworth and loss of anything

i just want flowers

god, I just want to lay on our roofs with you or someone or maybe just the sky and smoke a cigarette and think about life and death and most importantly
           n  o    t
                       h   i  n
                                g 

just want to sit on the roof of our cars and play the guitar

whispering sweet nothings into the ceaseless wind

feeding the flowers with the ashes of my vices.


but

i'm to preoccupied with whats coming to move on with what i wan't to do in my mind  now.







i'm stuck
Tearing these veins from my skin I'm stuck
Stuck falling
crashing
drowning.
Hysterisizing. \\\\

stuck wanting flowers.