insecurities 909

Because the only times she feels..something, is when there are people squirming under her, calling her name, and coming apart.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

why can't I hurt myself?

I don't understand why can't I hurt myself? I'm still doing it in a safe level. I only cut myself on my left hand and it's not even that deep. Just enough to see it bleed. I even stop doing it once my left hand is too full and I can't add any cut no more. Hitting something hard might make me feel good too. But too dangerous. If I broke my hand, what'll I do? Go to the hospital? DUH! And I'm sure it'll hurt like hell. Hahaha..I'm not looking for THAT kind of hurt. Just seepish, tiny, little pain..searing..woah! After I'm done, I always use the alcohol. Hahaha..I dont want to get any disease. You see..I don't hurt anyone by cutting myself. I don't even hurt ME. Instead I make myself feel better. I don't have to feel any pain again inside my chest. It'll be gone. I wish people understand that. I'm not kidding when I say it hurt much more inside my chest.
Read more

Evil plan for little girl

I think at least once in their lifetime, a girl should've kissed another girl. Just to know how it tastes. Pick the right one though. The one you like or the hottest. You'll missed out one hell of an experience if you haven't. You dont have to be gay. You're just experimenting. Me, myself, if I dont have a girlfriend already, I'd lure little girl and teach them how to kiss appropriately. Young girls, in school uniform, feeling insecure and not sure what to do..yummm...especially the androgynus one..
Read more

Craving again

That cravings comes back again. To jam a razor at my hand and drag it deep. To drink alcohol into oblivious state. I had to distract myself last night. Didn't remember what I did though. Tried to read but I keep stopping once in a while just to stay focus on the words that seemed to be meaningless all of a sudden. It took a while but then the cravings gone and I just felt sad. It's starting again. The low, empty and cold feeling that asked for my attention.
Read more