December 2009
Drunk mistakes and mouths I shouldn’t be kissing. Best friends and ex friends, tears and hugs and drugs. The night lasts forever when I’m burning bridges and hurting hearts and fucking everything up. At least I’m still so young, the breaths between the pains in my chest still taste like fun.
I have not felt this lost since I was fourteen, when I spent hours of desperation smashing plastic scotch tape dispensers, collecting those tiny jagged razors. I turned them against myself, digging deep into milky white flesh, pulling sleeves over fingers and keeping my kit of self-treatment tucked beneath the mattress.
I have long since stopped counting my days, scars have faded, skin has been...