paperthin doubts. crumbling bones. and don’t you dare try to give me anything resembling a compliment, because if you do i think i might explode.
tired eyes and weak bones. and i’m sorry for crying on your staircase at two in the morning i just feel so alone. so trapped inside myself. and you’re allowed to take up space in a room, you know.
skeletal fingers and shadows in the night, slamming your eyes closed. because i’ve seen monsters, all right? i’ve been there, and i’ve done that, and nothing you throw at me could possibly compare to the villains that live in my head.
panic attack in the locker bay, mid-block all alone. and fake a smile, okay? say you’re fine when they say hello.
questioning reality. because you’ve never been in anyone’s mind but your own. and this could all just be a stimulation, or a game, or some kind of sick dream. you know?
a heart. cold as stone.