“I only write when I am falling in love, or falling apart.”
— e.s. (via selectables)
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Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
Sylvia Plath (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
I’ve decided that I’m the problem. So I think I need to just stop.
I thought what I’d do was, I’d pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes.
Dear bird shit,
Since my Facebook is monitored, I’ll post here. Fuck you. I sincerely hope you get hit by a bus. I don’t want you to die, no that’d be way too kind for you. I want the bus to break most every bone in your body and you live. I want you to get kicked out of the hospital for not having insurance and lay in the street in agony. I want you to suffer. And I swear to you that if you come to my home, I will put a bullet between your eyes. You’re a disgrace to other people breathing the same air as you. You’re the definition of human garbage or human vomit. You’re worth less than nothing and I hope you do as much damage to yourself as you’ve done to others. I hope I can take every penny you have, take every business contact you have, and then kill you slowly. I hope my dreams tonight are of your torture and death. I hope I wake up to find you’re dead. You fucked up bucko. You fucked up and I want to fuck you up for it.
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