Nostalgic bullshit…
I just looked at everything that I’ve posted and rebloged on this blog since I started it last summer. I’ve been having a pretty damn good year.
I was on tcas and someone told me to tell them about her.
She’s soft, and insecure, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She has this radiant shoulder length dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and her nose forms this little 30 60 90 triangle if you look at it from the side. Her lips are soft pink (she doesn’t wear lipstick) and she has straight white teeth. Her neck looks to be a little too skinny to hold her head, but she’s strong. Her body is a slight hour glass with C cup breasts that are almost always complimented by a graphic tee and polka-dot bra. She keeps her legs shaved, even though most of the time she wears long blue jeans. And converse. Skinny, low-top converse.
She’s loud, and her voice is a little bit high, and she’s always happy, even when it rains outside. She acts like a superhero, and everyone likes her except for me. I love her. Which is good, because she loves me too. :)
Random Deep Thoughts
It is so hard for me to be around you. You are my love, and I yours, but whenever I see I am overcome by this extreme sorrow…
How could a creature as lovely and whole and pure as you bring me such agony? Why do you do this to me? Why do you have to leave me?
Do you know how much I need you? No, and I can never tell you because I don’t have the words. Because no one has the words to describe your perfection.
-Boo
The other night I was Skyping with one of my best friends. She lives in Holland and I live in America, so we don’t get to talk often. I trust her so much, and every time we talk I just feel so loved. She’s amazing.
I was talking to her about cutting, and started telling her about how I sometimes take pictures of my self-harm instead of writing about it, or in addition to writing about it. I don’t normally show people the pictures, but I sent her a few. She had been sharing her screen with me because I’d been watching her draw something, so I saw when she opened the files.
She opened this picture, kept it on the screen for a few seconds, closed it, and opened it again in Photoshop. I watched, confused, thinking it had been an accident.
I watched quietly while she erased every line of blood, every scar, every cut from my body. I started recording the screen without thinking- I needed to be able to watch it again. I knew I would need to feel that sense of… relief. That there was someone in my life who knew the extent of me and could still see through to something beautiful.
I wanted to share this with you because I think it’s important. If you feel anything close to how I felt when I saw this, I’m happy. Because you should know that it’s possible to be loved, underneath the pain and the scars and the blood. We are all beautiful.
You’re beautiful, and above all, you are not alone.
All my creys. D:
