I like to write. c:
"you were the summer breeze against my winter wind, baby, and you always thought - like god - that i was most beautiful when i was on my knees. you used me three times but only apologized for the first two, assuming that i was fine after that.
and you are the reason i stopped cutting and dyeing my hair, claiming that i was nice the way i was and that nothing should ever change me because you liked me, and that was enough. now my cheeks are only pink after you've kissed them and the reason that my hair is dishwater blonde, instead of terracotta red like i wanted it to be. you are the reason i began to yearn for affection and the reason i would cut love notes into my palm.
you are the reason i became beautiful, but also the reason i'm not beautiful enough."
- excerpt from my book of ramblings.
and you are the reason i stopped cutting and dyeing my hair, claiming that i was nice the way i was and that nothing should ever change me because you liked me, and that was enough. now my cheeks are only pink after you've kissed them and the reason that my hair is dishwater blonde, instead of terracotta red like i wanted it to be. you are the reason i began to yearn for affection and the reason i would cut love notes into my palm.
you are the reason i became beautiful, but also the reason i'm not beautiful enough."
- excerpt from my book of ramblings.
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Nice to know you remember your account.