50,000,000 more lonely girls once I scalp that little LB

It has been brought to my attention that I say the word ‘like’ a lot while I’m attempting to hold a conversation. Now, it’s all I think about. Should I speak the way I write? How many people speak the way they write? Dr.Smith our English Literature teacher does. Crazy little English man he is.

An hour or so ago I went to use my bathroom. I went back and my bathroom went from being dark blue to being cream. Naturally at first I thought a murdered painted my walls so that after he/she’s killed me, he/she can write their suicide note with my blood along the walls and use our new bathtub to undergo with the self mutilation. That was a little morbid, I apologize.

I’ve been declawed. Feeling average. Now I can get on that guitar.

When I was busy creating wars with myself I realize now you were only trying to stop the fight. Thank you for your patience and understanding mom. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for taking me back on more than one occasion.

The ceiling is rising, the green faeries are dancing. The ghosts are ringing in my ears calling for company. I’m sure it’s lonely living within these walls of mine. I taste red, I feel blue. No baggage, I’m as light as a feather.  I’m not broken, I’m just a little scratched up and dusty. My body is sinking into the calf remains I sit upon, the calf I ate for dinner.  Headboards are foreshadowing. The last tombstone we see. The smell of rubbing alcohol is suffocating me. Feeling dirty.