I think about me after I die; how wonderful It’ll feel.
I want to see my mother. We could sit on the clouds together, both having wings on our backs.
I don’t sleep anymore.
I avoid the mirror, but when I do take the risk of looking, I’m angry, I’m disgusted.
Why can’t I be pretty looking through my eyes?
I hate food. I hate how it controls me. I hate how I let it control me.
Will I ever be free?
|—||Reyna Biddy (via kushandwizdom)|
How does one get so lost in ones eyes? Someone that’s irresistible. You just want nothing more then to look as long as you can, but you end up forcing yourself to look away.
Such a comfortable sixteen year old presence.
‡Carpe Noctem and enjoy the Insanity☾