At least I think you were real.

A few nights ago, I was left at the imaginary altar. My bedroom, the church filled with all of our imaginary family and friends joined together as imaginary guests. My imaginary groom long gone, bags packed as you ran out the door with only the excuse of 'this just isn't working out anymore,' to tide me over. My not-so-imaginary tears did nothing to make you stay. All that you left behind was me standing alone to explain to everyone just why you weren't going to make it to the imaginary wedding.

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Ode To Eyewear

I just want to know why it is that men keep looking at me with all those eyes? Eyes, alone, sexy as all hell. I want nothing more than for a boy to stare at me with his so I can stare at him with mine. Kind of like a contest that I'm always hopeful no one ever has to win. Victory only means that we need to stop staring at each other. And why would I ever want to do that. Add some extra eyes to the already awesome pair, and you've got yourself a weak-kneed girl. Does it make me kinky to find glasses so insanely attractive? Am I a freak nasty for wanting to kiss a boy senseless for being blind? I mean, I'm really sorry if you're near-eyed, far-eyed or just plain fucked in the cornea, but I feel like it should be okay for me to benefit from your problem. If I could find a way to get a boy to keep their glasses on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I'd probably stay hot every day for the rest of my life. I understand that sex with a pair of lenses held by a pie...

Normalcy 1.1

There is a subtle art to feeding off of ideas from another person. The point is not, as some may think, to completely take their ideas as your own and try to market them as magic of your own. The stealing of someone else's hard work actually makes me sick. That's why they come down on you so hard at school for plagiarism. It's the lack of creativity that your teachers and parents are worried about. That their pupil or child is going to end up working a pointless 9 to 5 cubicled desk-job because of their inabilities to think for themselves. Working and thinking for the man. But the beauty of drawing an idea from someone else and then using it to fuel your own creativity, thats true beauty. The fact that another persons thoughts have been able to help you create something magical of your own, that's what I strive for. To take in the aura of someone else and make something for myself that I can be proud of. To inspire others to be proud of themselves.

These are Dirty Words

This will take me more than a while to write down only because it has to be done in between my waves of sadness. I don't know how valid my words can be if I spend the entire time trying to describe to you how revolting I find myself to be. ___________________________________________________ I was raped on November 1, 2014 at 3 o'clock in the morning. I have been told that I led him on. I have been told that I dressed too enticingly. I have been told that I was asking for it. I have been told that it's what I really wanted all along. Sometimes I believe none of these things are true. Sometimes I believe they're all true. But this event, life changing that it was, is not the focus of what I'm trying to say. It's all about the after. What happened to me after this. Who I became after this. I'm not even really sure, to be honest. It started with a lot of confusion. Genuine, crippling confusion. Like, in order to cope with day to day life my brain...

I mean it from the bottom of my [HEART].

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