I want to be Alison Mosshart when I grow up. #TheKills (Taken with instagram)
Dramatic Irony
Just when I think I will stop bleeding all over everything, I see him driving down State Street while I’m inside the pizza place with friends, and it all rushes back. The “what ifs”, the “whys?”, and what happened between him and me. Sure this too shall pass, but its taking fucking forever. Why did seven months do so much damage? How could I have been so reckless? Was it because it really was love? I haven’t ached this badly since Trent and sometimes it feels one-hundred times worse because it all feels so new. There are very few moments now when its such a relief to forget about him, but then I’m all alone & nothing helps comfort the thought that he let me go…
Sweet Sweet Hearkiller
I was not made to be a mother.
I had too stricken a heart, so I wore red shoes to stay apart.
Where did you take me that night so black & still?
He had a badge and a gun, and somewhere, even, had a wife.
He took my face & tore my hips and planted in their place something new and strange and near to love.
A Heart is Stone
Things I learned this week:
•I can impress with my music taste.
•I have a sense of humour. Wait, I think I already knew that…
•I don’t need to try & impress anyone, yet I’m going to keep trying anyway.
•I can “crush” certain people just by leaving.
•Just because I’m advanced in every other department doesn’t mean I have to be advanced in the jaded category.
My, How it Comes
“There are other things that have happened, things I never wanted to think or write about because I was afraid of being rash, in case everything straightened itself out. It might still. I could ring, send a text, but they seem such poor approximations of communication. If I can’t sort out what’s in this head, how can I put it into intelligible sentences?”
(Source: beanadult)


