Dear book, this is another day in my life. A life is like a book. A book is like a box. A box has six sides. Inside and outside, so, how do you get to what's inside? How do you get what's inside, out? Once upon a time, there lived a very pretty girl, who lived in a beautiful box, and everybody loved her.
I wish my brain would shut the fuck up for a minute. I wish I knew what I looked like. I wish I could leave this body, this retched human form. I try to separate myself from this host, the vessel of flesh and blood. all the blades, bruises, hunger pangs and cigarette burns in the world cannot separate me from this prison of skin. when will I stop? when can I stop...I want to feel my bones poke painfully from underneath my skin. I want to feel empty and clear. god knows nobody can love a troubled girl, at least if I look lovely, perhaps someone will want to keep me around.