WEARING HATRED ON OUR MASKS.

I've never made myself to look perfect. I make mistakes and have always laid them out to the best of ability. I've admitted to every decision I've made. Sometimes late, but always honest.

I refuse to let the phantoms of 8 months ago define what I've become. I've been to funerals, bars, and basement floors, but I'm still fucking standing. Count the times this lost little girl has cried herself to sleep, and you'll reach numbers you've forgotten existed. If you don't see my better, I do, and I will not punish myself, more importantly, I will not let anybody punish me. I tell everyone the greatness, the fiasco, the love. When you go telling the world how awful of a person I am, it shows how much respect I ever held. Fucking none.

Oh, and the answer so your fucking question, No, I fucking haven't.

You're wearing a disguise and I don't know that person anymore. A ghost. A phantom.

Love can make suicide sound so cool.