promise
i can’t count how many times i’ve almost given in to suicide. innumerable moments of chest wracking pain, these insane thoughts running through my brain. endless nights lying awake in bed. so young, but already half dead. i have scars on my thighs that say ‘fat’ and ‘die.’ yet, one day the sun will come out and you will feel it for what seems like the first time. this i can promise you with every inch of my being. because i’ve journeyed through hell a few too many times, and always come out to see the other side.
fithappymaneddie-deactivated202: How is the quarantine
pretty rough on my mental health, but today was better 🖤
i promise
i can’t count how many times i’ve almost given in to suicide. innumerable moments of chest wracking pain, these insane thoughts running through my brain. endless nights lying awake in bed. so young, but already half dead. i have scars on my thighs that say ‘fat’ and ‘die.’ yet, one day the sun will come out and you will feel it for what seems like the first time. this i can promise you with every inch of my being. because i’ve journeyed through hell a few too many times, and always come out to see the other side.
cinnamon
sugar, spice, and everything nice. we know well that’s what girls are made of. but no one ever told you just how sweet they can be. how cinnamon lips conceal bright smiles. smiles that taste like red–spicy, tingling. and the wildest most wonderous part is you remind her of cherries, as scarlet as the mouth she’s kissing. you taste of them too, lips enveloped in a fruity gloss. a semi-sapphic tale of confusion and desire. everyone always insisting you’re a liar, but nothing has ever felt so true. and when skin traces skin and fingers tangle in long hair, what anyone thinks doesn’t matter. it never has.
