I make art for fun.|
Also, I'm under your bed.
ill have you know im scaredi lied, i lied, a thousand times i lied.ill have you know im scared by ohsostarryeyed
i don't know who this story is about. i don't know if it's an 'i,' 'you,' 'he,' or 'she' story. i'll probably pick three and rotate them. because when you think about it, doesn't it happen to us all?
i was found dead on the road. i hear i was contorted and bloody, only the blood wasn't my own, and i died simply because i was afraid. i always thought that was so fucking ironic- i was fucking scared to death.
and every time she's walking down the street, the girl who might've been me, the girl whose blood i was found in though she's also dead, i cringe. because she hears people crowing about amusement parks and how the upside-down roller coaster scared them to death, and she thinks of me. she's dead, but she still thinks of me. somehow, i feel loved.
he said he was a policeman. really, he was a rapist. he, you, i. it doesn't matter, everyone is a rapist. everyone thinks they want sex, but nobody does. it's too personal. it's not forever