(Source: wearealways-broken, via anorexic-soul)
My inner homicidal closet slut.
Just let me be a teenage girl. Eyes glazed, hormone-crazed, always fazed, but well-raised.
(Source: icanread, via a-mess-of-a-dreamer)
(via floatawaywithme)
(via the---small)
Silent whispers fill the hallway
Skin and bones are all that’s left
Hoping to find something more
Before taking my last breath.
When no one cares to listen
No one understands
Maybe I’d be better off
With just No One as my friend.
Because No One understands me
No One cares to see
That who I am and what I do
Is the best that I can be.
So when you hear this poem
And hear that I have died
Remember how I used to be
Recall that No One cried.
2 days ago - 
2
2 
(Source: anonymouslydead, via c-o-r-r-u-p-t)
(via c-o-r-r-u-p-t)
(Source: dekinakatta, via c-o-r-r-u-p-t)
(Source: wastinglifeallaway, via c-o-r-r-u-p-t)
(Source: nic0tine-kisses, via anorexic-soul)
I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen.
John Steinbeck (via the—-small)
(Source: accidentalism, via the---small)
(Source: s-p-u-n-g-e-n, via the-skelet0ns-in-your-closet)
