Raise your middle finger up to the sky,
tell them to go and fuck themselves.
Let them call you arrogant and rude.
Good girls get treated worse, why put
yourself through that?
Create your own heaven, find your own bliss.
Fuck him and fuck them.
The only thing you should keep higher than
your standards is that beautiful head.
I decided to switch the main picture of the blog because I really wanted Olivia (my typewriter) to be in the pic. I’ve placed the first one right away when I went Premium and changed the blog theme but I never really liked it. I think this one is better. I wish I had someone around who was better at photography because I have a bunch of picture ideas, but can’t realize them on my own. Anyways, do you like it?
She was a fire born on a hot summer day.
Her heart was kind but too exposed so it
became a liability. She realized to late
what kind of place the world is and somehow
the fire got burned. There’s ice running
through her veins now. The fire is dying out.
She was the first sip of
coffee in the morning, the
first snow on Christmas,
a kiss when you need it,
a comedy show when you’re
sad, a source of pleasure
late at night. She was
everything sweet and kind and you made her so, so bitter and so, so sad.
They got flowers for her.
They got perfumes and
expensive necklaces for her.
They took her to dinners in fancy restaurants
and to destinations far away but still
she had to remember that one birthday when
you woke her up with coffee and muffins in bed
in order to fake a smile that she was unable
to contain that morning with you in bed.
I was never good in art class but yet
for you I tried to behave as a descendant of Picasso.
I took a canvas and made you a painting
to explain my emotions better, to make you
see how much it hurts when you do some things,
to let you know what I need more of so that I
could feel safe and loved around you.
I thought you were such a good guy because you
tried to understand and tried to be better but then
I realized I was the girl that stooped so low as to
be forced to draw you a map to my heart because
you couldn’t find it yourself. I was handing you everything
I was, everything I am and everything I will be and
you were still wandering without appreciating this gift.
You are going to have to have patience with me.
I am used to relationships failing miserably.
Since I was a kid love was the feeling ending in
punishment, pain is all I expect from it.
If you think it’s hard to read this, imagine how hard
it is to live it. I should tell you that I’ll try to run like
I always do but for once, this time I hope I’ll be stopped.
I hope you read that well between the lines.