Too weird to live, too rare to die. 24, Augusta, lover of cats.
-you smell different when you’re awake
-please help me (then smile as if nothing happened)
-you have lovely skin, I can’t wait to wear it
-your hair tastes like strawberries
-he knows, don’t go home.
-I always knew you would die in my arms
-every time I poop I think of you
-no one will ever believe you
-I killed mufasa
-I bet you didn’t feel me lick your ear
-mother told me it would be like this
As I’m scrolling through Facebook, I see all these pictures of people with their dads. The most recent picture I have with my dad is from when I was 9. We were fishing, it was before shit got bad at home. I used to be such a daddy’s girl. It’s hard to believe it’s been 8 years since I’ve spoken to him. Sometimes I feel like a total shit because I have friends who don’t have their dads anymore and would give anything to be able to see them and talk to them. Mine is all by choice. He’s not a person I want to be around. Ugh, today’s just a weird day.