the miserable life of a miserable teenager
wallflower

Behind the dead eyes.. Nope, still dead in here.Black lipstick and fishnet stockings,

how fitting.

Call me cliché, but it’d rather look how I feel, rather than walking around with smiley faces and rainbows.

Who knew, it’d suit me so well?

Like I was meant to replace my other side.

Dyed my hair dark, because blonde reminded me too much of the little girl I let down.

I try to ignore the stares that come with my thick eyeliner, because I don’t have the energy.

But if I let any of the eyes into a day of my life, I’m sure they’d look the other way.

I’ve found my people before,

and let them leave.

What’s the point? Life just goes on and on and on and on. Could you keep a plant watered your entire life?

And if your water was a fucking psycho?

Besides, I’m just not the type to let people fuck with me for a day and rewind tomorrow.

I feel worthless enough, as is.