sky-ship-on-fire:

There’s an armed fugitive on my fucking street. Fucking police cars and snipers dear god.

I just wanted to pick up a fucking job application from Burger King.

Goddamn.

D:

ammaculte:

I don’t know what the ship name for the two Lemongrabs is called

Lemoncest?
Lemonassgrab?
Lemon Meringue?
Bittersweet?

lemonzest

raspberrying:

My worst fear is that all psychiatric drugs are secretly placebos and that I’m embarrassing myself by depending on them/feeling side effects and it’s all just a huge psychological experiment, aliens are going to take over the earth, etc. etc.

abusedangel:

I’m too pale

I resemble a ghost

and my body is disgusting

no boy will ever love me because you can see my bones

and I’m not a real women

I’m not a child 

I’m not real

abusedangel:

It’s a Wednesday afternoon. I still haven’t changed out of my pajamas, I still haven’t brushed my teeth. I’ve consumed far too much caffeine, and my body still feels too heavy to move. I’m sitting on the kitchen counter, my moms making dinner, frying chicken in bacon grease. Vile. I’m cutting up mushrooms and I keep thinking about dragging the knife across my skin. I have no real desire to. I think this has been happening everyday for a year.

abusedangel:

ive got my outfit picked out for hospital
shoes with no laces
and a notebook without spirals
i wont put anything around my neck
put a gun to my head
or jump from a building
im not going to kill myself
but if you give me pills i will take them all
and if you drive with me fast in your car
i wont ask you to slow down
i will puke up all my meals
and drink mouth wash until my heart is cold
smile through it all 
dont worry though
i wont kill myself
but i dont care if i die

abusedangel:

i like to say your name a lot until it doesn’t sound like a word anymore and i forget who you are.

i wonder how many cigarettes are in the gutter. i would throw the love note you wrote me in it too but im afraid my house would catch fire.