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the miserable life of a miserable teenager
my black chipped nail polish
I never liked clean manicures, looked too right for me. I prefer stained shirts,
they feel more lived in.
I prefer messy hair,
it feels more accurate.
I prefer chipped nails,
they look filled to me.
Draw on my hands and arms,
because I’m not allowed tattoos. All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.
Also according to my therapist “externalizing” something…
This isn’t a “not like other girls” speech,
more just not like respected humans.
At least the ones I’m surrounded by.
Maybe in hell, I’ll get to be me.
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