Here's to the kids.
Here's to the kids who love more than they fight but they're too afraid to show it.
The ones that replay every conversation they have to analyze how dumb they sounded.
Here's to the kids who live their lives through song lyrics because it's the first time they've ever felt like they're not alone.
The kids who drown themselves in pages and pages of fictional characters in novels they wish they could live in; who dream of being someone else, somewhere else, sometimes else.
Here's to the kids who fall short no matter how hard they try.
To whoever has been misunderstood.
To whoever has been talked about like they weren't there.
Here's to the kids.
Here's to the kids who dream with saline raindrops on their cheeks and proverbial (or not so proverbial) cuts on their wrists.
The kids who dream of being something amazing but don't think they can be.
Here's to the kids who are constantly told by magazines that they're not beautiful.
To the ones who think they're never going to ever really find someone; who think that sometimes maybe it's just not worth it.
Here's to the kids who live for movies because for that two hour lapse of time, they can believe in true love and soul mates and happy endings.
The kids who close their eyes and try to just forget.
Here's to the kids who have fallen into a scene, not because it's cool or different, but because it has things and people they truly love.
The ones who want to be noticed but at the same time are afraid of the recognition.
Here's to the kids.
Here's to the kids who want to go so far but they feel so stuck.
The ones who never want to end up in an office job.
The ones who are afraid that's exactly where they'll be.
Here's to the kids who love the music more than the fashion, and the emotions more than the reactions.
The kids who write their problems but don't show a soul.
Here's to the kids that don't know who they are, and were never told that's okay.
Here's to the kids who are afraid of best friends.
The kids who are afraid of love.
The kids who have had broken hearts more than they can count.
Here's to the kids.
Here's to the kids who can't let anything go because living in the past is easier than being terrified of the future.
To whoever has lost someone they loved only to get them back, but feel as if they're not worth that person's time.
To whoever has lost someone and realized it was because it was their fault.
To whoever has lost someone for no reason.
Here's to the kids who have lost someone, period.
Here's to the kids who have never been in love.
Here's to the kids who have never been kissed with it meaning anything.
The kids who have never held hands with someone who felt anything for them.
The kids who break a little inside everyday.
Here's to the kids who work hard but everyday see at least one other person who is ten times better than them.
Here's to the kids whose daily lives are lies.
Whose smiles hold back a sob.
Whose sparkling eyes hold back tears.
Whose laughter holds back an overflow of the need to escape.
Here's to the kids who are just like me.
Cheers.
(thankskevyna:))
get out of your mind.
you should take care of your soul/yourself.
it's the teeth of you.
keep on brushing, keep on flossing.
keep it clean
keep it white
keep it pure.
because you never know who's going to spot that decay.
or the lies hidden underneath the colgate smile.
file your teeth.
whiten them.
make them so unnaturally fake.
and I mean it in a kind way
we're going to see through your pretence
see through your lies.
see through everything you tried to cover.
but you fail and you fail and you fail.
your nails are stained black from scrubbing the floor.
your nails are stained with dirt from digging through the dirt.
your nails are bloody red from scratching at the dark wooden door in an attempt to escape.
your nails are like claws, stained with dark ichor.
your nails are ebony.
your nails are ivory.
your nails are the picture of perfection in the dictionary.
your nails are the same as everyone else's
scratchslashscratchslashscratchslash.
i am the parchment, you are the ink.
i am the quill, you are the knife.
write on me.
overturn the ink bottle.
watch the ebony ink slowly ooze onto the white tiled floor
just like the way darkness spreads.
just like the way i'll never be the same again.
i'll be grey.
but never white or black.
ready set shoot
avoiding the therapist because i believe in self-curing.
i'm junking my problems instead of solving them.
i have my therapists on speakers anyway.
so dear girl.
get a fucking relapse.
♥xo
Labels: xo
forever kids are magnets for each other ♥