Friday, February 25

Fucking and punching
























In the library with my dark passanger. The journal never leaves my sight, it has a life of it’s own. It has come to be my constante, knocking a bottle of plum wine disguised as Vitamin water of the throne. 176 pages of hate. I carry them around, loath them but love them.

I never felt closer to her than when I read about her first time. of course, this was written by an adult so it didn’t have the right tone but there was something in her words I could relate to. The disgust, the feeling of being in the wrong place although the place had nothing to do with it. She wrote about his sent and the way he moved. To imagine a man making her feel uncomfortable is like seeing god.
You see, she never felt uncomfortable, except when I cried at family dinners. He was heavy, or maybe it was just that I was a very thin girl at the time I cant help but laugh. The honesty ends there. Her truth is always modified, and I am forced to realize what I should’ve know from the start.

I only feel close to her when she lie.

5 comments:

Susan said...

happy Friday, dear <3

Lund3on said...

i hate lying..it makes me feel dirty.

Tabs A. Geek said...

That is unfortunate, that a mother could be so horrid to her daughter that closeness only comes with a lacking of truth.

Beautiful Belle, I hope you do not let her words of hate destroy you and take over her life. You deserve more than that.

Anonymous said...

Learn to spell, twat.

And with a crack whore face like yours, I can see why you hide it. Fuck you, cunt

Anonymous said...

Caution is the parent of safety.