“I want to write poems on your skin with my lips”
I feel so stupid sometimes because I fantasize too much about the people I like; I invent stories with them, I imagine entire days with them and how nice the future will be with pictures and letters and other tender things that makes a lot of sense in my mind. then the reality turn to be so much different and meaner and maybe the reason why it’s so difficult for me to accept it and letting people go it’s because I just want my future to be happy. in all my stories and castles I build inside of my mind, sadness just does not exist
the fact that 15 year olds have more money than me because they lip synced to the weekend asking for coochie on musically makes me want to use my eyes as martini decorations






