One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.
I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be.
Something else is hurting you - that’s why you need pot or whiskey, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can’t think.