"here on these milky pages you will find the diary fragments of make-believe children (look how they’ve signed their pseudo-names for you), observational accounts of insect girls (try not to brush away the garden-dirt footprints left to dance in the margins), and the occasional lullabies played to all suicidal fantasies (hum quietly the melancholic melodies of ghost girls long gone)."
My name is [not your concern].
I do not believe in love, but I believe in heartbreak.
Especially the kind that hollows out your heart and makes it so you're a broken toy.
I have a boyfriend I like.
And a few best friends.
Sometimes I hate myself so much
I can't get out of bed.
I'm a former anorexic.
And sometimes I miss my skinny frame
so much it hurts.
That is all I care to tell you.